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9 



AN ORIENTAL ROMANCE, 



BY THOMAS MOORE. 




PHILADELPHIA 

rt/BLISHED hi' St. THOMAS, NO. 52, CHES>"UT-STREET. 

.T. Maxwell, Priuter. 

1817. 



1 



TO 



SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ. 



THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED, 



BY HIS VERY GRATEFUL AND AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, 



THOMAS MOORE. 



May 19, 1817. 



LALLA ROOKH. 



In the eleventh year of the reign of Aurungzebe, 
Abdalla, king of the Lesser Bucharia, a lineal descen- 
dant from the Great Zingis, having abdicated the 
throne in favour of his son, set out on a pilgrimage to 
the shrine of the prophet; and, passing into India through 
the delightful valley of Cashmere, rested for a short 
time at Delhi on his way. He was entertained by Au- 
rungzebe in a style of magnificent hospitality, worthy 
alike of the visitor and the host, and was afterwards 
escorted with the same splendour to Surat, where he 
embarked for Arabia. During the stay of the Royal Pil- 
grim at Delhi, a marriage was agreed upon between the 
prince, his son, and the youngest daughter of the em- 
peror, Lalla Rookh;* — a princess described by the 
poets of her time, as more beautiful than Leila, Shirine, 

* Tulip Cheek. 
A 2 



6 LALLA ROOKH. 

Dewild£, or any of those heroines whose names and loves 
embellish the songs of Persia and Hindostan. It was 
intended that the nuptials should be celebrated at Cash- 
mere; where the young* king, as soon as the cares of 
empire would permit, was to meet, for the first time, his 
lovely bride, and, after a few months' repose in that en- 
chanting valley, conduct her over the snowy hills into 
Bucharia. 

The day of Lalla Rockets departure from Delhi 
was as splendid as sunshine and pageantry could make 
it. The bazars and baths were all covered with the 
richest tapestry; hundreds of gilded barges upon the 
Jumna floated with their banners shining in the water; 
while through the streets groups of beautiful children 
went strewing the most delicious flowers around, as in 
that Persian festival called the Scattering of the Roses;* 
till every part of the city was as fragrant as if a caravan 
of musk from Khoten had passed through it. The prin- 
cess, having taken leave of her kind father, who at part- 
ing hung a cornelian of Yemen round her neck, on 
which was inscribed a verse from the Koran, — and hav- 
ing sent a considerable present to the Fakirs, who kept 
up the Perpetual Lamp in her sister's tomb, meekly as- 

• Gul Reazee. 



LALLA ROOKH. 

cended the palankeen prepared for her; and, while 
Aurungzebe stood to take a last look from his balcony, 
the procession moved slowly on the road to Lahore. 

Seldom had the eastern world seen a cavalcade so 
superb. From the gardens in the suburbs to the impe- 
rial palace, it was one unbroken line of splendour. The 
gallant appearance of the Rajas and Mogul lords, dis- 
tinguished by those insignia of the emperor's favour, 
the feathers of the egret of Cashmere in their turbans, 
and the small silver-rimmed kettle-drums at the bows of 
their saddles; — the costly armour of their cavaliers, who 
vied, on this occasion, with the guards of the great 
Keder Khan, in the brightness of their silver battle- 
axes and the massiness of thair maces of gold; — the glit- 
tering of the gilt pine-apples on the tops of the palan- 
keens; — the embroidered trappings of the elephants, 
bearing on their backs small turrets, in the shape of 
little antique temples, within which the ladies of Lalla 
Rookh lay, as it were enshrined, — the rose-coloured 
veils of the princess's own sumptuous litter, at the front 
of which a fair young female slave sat fanning her 
through the curtains, with feathers of the Argus phea- 
k sant's wing; — and the lovely troop of Tartarian and Cash- 
merian maids of honour, whom the young king had sent 



» LALLA ROOKH. 

to accompany his bride, and who rode on each side of 
the litter, upon small Arabian horses; — all was brilliant, 
tasteful, and magnificent, and pleased even the critical 
and fastidious Fadladeen, Great Nazir or Chamber- 
lain of the Haram, who was borne in his palankeen im- 
mediately after the princess, and considered himself not 
the least important personage of the pageant. 

Fadladeen was a judge of every thing, — from the 
penciling of a Circassian's eye-lids to the deepest ques- 
tions of science and literature; from the mixture of a 
conserve of rose-leaves to the composition of an epic 
poem: and such influence had his opinion upon the va- 
rious tastes of the day, that all the cooks and poets of 
Delhi stood in awe of him. His political conduct and 
opinions were founded upon that line of Sadi, — " should 
the prince at noon-day say. It is night, declare that you 
behold the moon and stars." — And his zeal for religion, 
of which Aurungzebe was a munificent protector, was 
about as disinterested as that of the goldsmith, who fell 
in love with the diamond eyes of the idol of Jaghernaut. 

During the first days of their journey, Lalla 
Rookh, who had passed all her life within the shadow of 
the Royal Gardens of Shalimar, found enough in the 



LALLA ROOKH. V 

beauty of the scenery through which they passed to in- 
terest her mind and delight her imagination; and when, 
at evening or in the heat of the day, they turned off from 
the high road to those retired and romantic places which 
had been selected for her encampments, — sometimes on 
the banks of a small rivulet, as clear as the waters of the 
Lake of Pearl; sometimes under the sacred shade of a 
Banyan-tree, from which the view opened upon a glade 
covered with antelopes; and often in those hidden, em- 
bowered spots, described by one from the isles of the 
west, as " places of melancholy, delight, and safety, 
where all the company around was wild peacocks and 
turtle-doves;" — she felt a charm in these scenes, so 
lovely and so new to her, which, for a time, made her 
indifferent to every other amusement. But Lalla 
Rookh was young, and the young love variety; nor 
could the conversation of her ladies and the Great 
Chamberlain, Fadladeen, (the only persons, of course, 
admitted to her pavilion,) sufficiently enliven those many 
vacant hours, which were devoted neither to the pillow 
nor the palankeen. There was a little Persian slave, 
who sung sweetly to the Vina, and who, now and then, 
lulled the princess to sleep with the ancient ditties of 
her country, about the loves of Wamak and Ezra, the 
fair-haired Zal and his mistress Rodahver; not forgetting 



10 LALLA ROOKH. 

the combat of Rustam with the terrible White Demon. 
At other times she was amused by those graceful danc- 
ing-girls of Delhi, who had been permitted by the Bra- 
mins of the Great Pagoda to attend her, much to the 
horror of the good Mussulman, Fadladeen, who could 
see nothing graceful or agreeable in idolaters, and to 
whom the very tinkling of their golden anklets was an 
abomination. 

But these and many other diversions were repeated 
till they lost all their charm, and the nights and noon- 
days were beginning to move heavily, when, at length, 
it was recollected that, among the attendants sent by the 
bridegroom, was a young poet of Cashmere, much cele- 
brated throughout the valley for his manner of reciting 
the stories of the east, on whom his royal master had 
conferred the privilege of being admitted to the pavilion 
of the princess, that he might help to beguile the tedi- 
ousness of the journey by some of his most agreeable 
recitals. At the mention of a poet, Fadladeen elevat- 
ed his critical eye-brows, and, having refreshed his fa- 
culties with a dose of that delicious opium, which is dis- 
tilled from the black poppy of the Thebais, gave orders 
for the minstrel to be forthwith introduced into the 
presence. 



I, ALL A ROOKH. 11 

The princess, who had once in her life seen a poet 
from behind the screens of gauze in her father's hall, 
and had conceived from that specimen no very favoura- 
ble ideas of the cast, expected but little in this new ex- 
hibition to interest her; — she felt inclined however to 
alter her opinion on the very first appearance of Fera- 
morz. He was a youth about Lalla Rookh's own age, 
and graceful as that idol of women, Crishna,* — such as 
he appears to their young imaginations, heroic, beautiful, 
breathing music from his very eyes, and exalting the 
religion of his worshippers into love. His dress was 
simple, yet not without some marks of costliness, and 
the ladies of the princess were not long in discovering 
that the cloth, which encircled his high Tartarian cap, 
was of the most delicate kind that the shawl-goats of 
Tibet supply. Here and there, too, over his vest, which 
was confined by a flowered girdle of Kashan, hung 
strings of fine pearl, disposed with an air of studied 
negligence; — nor did the exquisite embroidery of his 
sandals escape the observation of these fair critics; who, 
however they might give way to Fadladeen upon the 
unimportant topics of religion and government, had 
the spirit of martyrs in every thing relating to such mo- 
mentous matters as jewels and embroidery. 

* The Jndian Apollo. 



12 LALLA ROOKH. 

For the purpose of relieving the pauses of recitation 
by music, the young Cashmerian held in his hand a 
kitar; — such as, in old times, the Arab maids of the 
West used to listen to by moonlight in the gardens of 
the Alhambra, — and, having premised, with much hu- 
mility, that the story he was about to relate was founded 
on the adventures of that veiled prophet of Khorassan, 
who, in the year of the Hegira 163, created such alarm 
thoughout the Eastern Empire, made an obeisance to 
the princess, and thus began: — 



THE 



Veiled Prophet of Khoiwssan* 



IN that delightful Province of the Sun, 
The first of Persian lands he shines upon, 
Where, all the loveliest children of his beam 
Flowrets and fruits blush over every stream, 
And, fairest of all streams^ the Murga roves 
Among Merou'sj bright palaces and g*roves; — 
There, on that throne, to which the blind belief 
Of millions rais'd him, sat the Prophet-Chief, 
The Great Mokanna. O'er his features hung 
The Veil, the Silver Veil, which he had flung 
In mercy there, to hide from mortal sight 
His dazzling brow, till man could bear its light. 



* Khorassan signifies, in the eld Persian language, Pro- 
vince, or Region of the Sun, — Sir W. Jones 

f One of the royal cities of Khorassan. 



14 LALLA ROOKH. 

For, far Jess luminous, his votaries said, 

Were ev'n the gleams, miraculously shed 

O'er Moussa's* cheek, when down the Mount he trod. 

All glowing from the presence of his God! 

On either side, with ready hearts and hands, 
His chosen guard of bold Believers stands; 
Young, fire-eyed disputants, who deem their swords. 
On points of faith, more eloquent than words; 
And such their zeal, there's not a youth with branel 
Uplifted there, but, at the Chiefs command, 
Would make his own devoted heart its sheath, 
And bless the lips that doom'd so dear a death! 
In hatred to the Caliph's hue of nigfet,f 
Their vesture, helms and all, is snowy white; 
Their weapons various; — some equipp'd, for speed* 
With javelins of the light Kathaian reed; 
Or bows of buffalo horn, and shining quivers 
Fill'd with the stems} that bloom on Iran's rivers: 
While some, for war's more terrible attacks, 
Wield the huge mace and ponderous battle-axe, 
And, as they wave aloft in morning's beam 
The milk-white plumage of their helms, they seem 



* Moses. 

*f Black was the colour adopted by the Caliphs of the 
House of Abbas, in their garments, turbans, and standards. 

* Piohula, used anciently for arrows by the Persians. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAJN. lb 

Like a chenar-tree grove, when winter throws 
O'er all its tufted heads his feathering- snows. 

Between the porphyry pillars, that uphold 
The rich moresque-work of the roof of gold, 
Aloft the Haram's curtain'd galleries rise, 
Where, through the silken net-work, glancing eyes, 
From time to time, like sudden gleams that glow 
Through autumn clouds, shine o'er the pomp below. — 
What impious tongue, ye blushing saints, would dare 
To hint that aught but Heav'n hath plac'd you there? 
Or that the lores of this light world could bind, 
In their gross chain, your Prophet's soaring mind? 
No — wrongful thought! — commission'd from above 
To people Eden's bowers with shapes of love, 
(Creatures so bright, that the same lips and eyes 
They wear on earth will serve in Paradise;) 
There to recline among heaven's native maids, 
And crown th' Elect with bliss that never fades! — 
Well hath the Prophet- Chief his bidding done; 
And every beauteous race beneath the sun, 
From those who kneel at Brahma's burning founts,* 
To the fresh nymphs bounding o'er Yemen's mounts; 
From Persia's eyes of full and fawn-like ray, 
To the small, half-shut glances of Kathay; 

* The burning fountains of Brahma near Chittogong, 
esteemed as holy. — Turner. 



16 LALLA ROOKH. 

And Georgia's bloom, and Azab's darker smiles, 
And the gold ringlets of the Western Isles; 
All, all are there; — each Land its flower hath given, 
To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven! 

But why this pageant now? this arm'd array? 
What triumph crowds the rich Divan to-day 
With turban'd heads, of every hue and race, 
Bowing before that veiPd and awful face, 
Like tulip-beds, of different shape and dyes, 
Bending beneath th' invisible West-wind's sighs! 
What new-made mystery now, for Faith to sign, 
And blood to seal, as genuine and divine, — 
What dazzling mimicry of God's own power 
Hath the bold Prophet plann'd to grace this hour? 
Not such the pageant now, though not less proud, — 
Yon warrior youth, advancing from the crowd, 
With silver bow, with belt of broider'd crape, 
And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape, 
So fiercely beautiful in form and eye, 
Like war's wild planet in a summer sky; — 
That youth to-day, — a proselyte, worth hordes 
Of cooler spirits and less practis'd swords, — 
Is come to join, all bravery and belief, 
The creed and standard of the heav'n-sent Chief, 

Though few his years, the West already knows 
Young Azim's fame; — beyond th' Olympian snows. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 17 

Ere manhood darken'd o'er his downy cheek, 
O'erwhelm'd in fight and captive to the Greek,* 
He linger'd there, till peace dissolv'd his chains; — 
Oh! who could, ev'n in bondage, tread the plains 
Of glorious Greece, nor feel his spirit rise 
Kindling within him? who, with heart and eyes, 
Could walk where Liberty had been, nor see 
The shining foot-prints of her Deity, 
Nor feel those god-like breathings in the air, 
Which mutely told her spirit had been there? 
Not he, that youthful warrior, — no, too well 
For his soul's quiet work'd the awakening spell; 
And now, returning to his own dear land, 
Full of those dreams of good that, vainly grand, 
Haunt the young heart; — proud views of human-kind, 
Of men to Gods exalted and refin'd; — 
False views, like that horizon's fair deceit, 
Where earth and heav'n but seem, alas, to meet! — 
Soon as he heard an Arm Divine was rais'd 
To right the nations, and beheld, emblaz'd 
On the white flag Mokanjna's host unfurl'd, 
Those words of sunshine, " Freedom to the world," 
At once his faith, his sword, his soul obeyed 
Th' inspiring summons; every chosen blade, 



* In the war of the Caliph Mahadi against the Empress 
Irene, for an account of which v. GiObon, vol. x. 

B 2 



18 LALLA ROOKH. 

That fought beneath that banner's sacred text, 
Seem 'd doubly edg'd, for this world and the next; 
And ne'er did Faith with her smooth bandage bind 
Eyes more devoutly willing to be blind, 
In virtue's cause; — never was soul inspir'd 
With livelier trust in what it most desir'd, 
Than his, th' enthusiast there, who kneeling, pale 
With pious awe, before that silver veil, 
Believes the form, to which he bends his knee, 
Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free 
This fetter'd world from every bond and stain, 
And bring its primal glories back again! 

Low as young Azim knelt, that motly crowd 
Of all earth's nations sunk the knee and bow'd, 
With shouts of " Alla!" echoing long and loud; 
While high in air, above the prophet's head, 
Hundreds of banners, to the sunbeam spread, 
Wav'd, like the wings of the white birds that fan 
The flying throne of star- taught Soliman! 
Then thus he spoke; — " Stranger, though new the frame 
" Th}^ soul inhabits now, I've track'd its flame 
" For many an age*, in every chance and change 
** Of that existence, through whose varied range, — 
" As through a torch-race, where, from hand to hand 
" The flying youth transmits their shining brand, — 

* The transmigration of souls was one of his doctrines, v. 
JD'Herbelot. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 19 

" From frame to frame the unextinguished soul 
" Rapidly passes, till it reach the goal ! 

" Nor think 'tis only the gross spirits, warm'd 
" With duskier fire and for earth's medium form'd, 
" That run this course; — Beings, the most divine, 
" Thus deign through dark mortality to shine. 
" Such was the essence that in Adam dwelt, 
" To which all Heaven, except the proud one, knelt:* 
" Such the refin'd intelligence that glow'd 
" In Moussa's frame; — and, thence descending, flowed 
" Through many a prophet's breast; — inf Issa shone, 
" And in Mohammed burn'd; till, hastening on, 
" (As a bright river that, from fall to fall 
" In many a maze descending, bright through all, 
" Finds some fair region where, each labyrinth past, 
" In one full lake of light it rests at last!) 
" That holy spirit, settling calm and free 
" From lapse or shadow, centres all in me!" 

Again, throughout th' assembly at these words, 
Thousands of voices rung; the warriors' swords 
Were pointed up to heaven; a sudden wind 
In th' open banners play'd, and from behind 
Those Persian hangings, that but ill could screen 
The haram's loveliness, white hands were seen 
Waving embroider'd scarves, whose motion gave 

* " And when we said unto the angels, Worship Adam, 
they all worshipped him except Ebiis, (Lucifer,) who refu- 
sed."— The Koran, Chap. ii. 



20 XALLA ROOKH. 

A perfume forth; — like those the Houris wave, 
When beckoning" to their bowers th' immortal brave. 

" But these," pursued the chief, " are truths sublime, 
" That claim a holier mood and calmer time 
" Than earth allows us now; — this sword must first 
" The darkling* prison-house of mankind burst, 
u Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in 
" Her wakening day-light on a world of sin! 
" But then, celestial warriors, then, when all 
" Earth's shrines and thrones before our banner fall, 
a When the glad slave shall at these feet lay down 
1C His broken chain, the tyrant lord his crown, 
" The priest his book, the conqueror his wreath, 
" And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath 
" Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze 
;t That whole dark pile of human mockeries; — 
" Then shall the reign of Mind commence on earth, 
" And starting fresh, as from a second birth, 
" Man, in the sunshine of the world's new spring, 
vt Shall walk transparent, like some holy, thing! 
" Then too, your prophet from his angel brow 
** Shall cast the veil that hides its splendours now, 
" And gladden'd Earth shall, through her wide expanse, 
k Bask in the glories of this countenance! 

" For thee, young warrior, welcome! — thou hast yet 
" Some tasks to learn, some frailties to forget, 
" Ere the white war-plume o'er thy brow can wave; — 
" But, once my own, mine all till in the grave!" 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAST. 21 

The pomp is at an end, — the crowds are gone — 
Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone 
Of that deep voice, which thrilled like Alla's own! 
The young- all dazzled by the plumes and lances, 
The glittering throne, and harem's half caught glances; 
The old deep pondering on the promis'd reign 
Of peace and truth; and all the female train 
Ready to risk their eyes, could they but gaze 
A moment on that brow's miraculous blaze! 

But there was one, among the chosen maids 
Who blush'd behind the gallery's silken shades. 
One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day 
Has been like death; — you saw her pale dismay, 
Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst 
Of exclamation from her lips, when first 
She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known, 
Silently kneeling at the prophet's throne. 

Ah Zelica! there was a time, when bliss 
Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his; 
When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air 
In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest prayer! 
When round him hung such a perpetual spell, 
Whate'er he did, none ever did so well. 
Too happy days! when, if he touch'd a flower 
Or gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour: 
When thou didst study him, till every tone 
And gesture and dear look became thy own, 



22 LALLA ROOKH* 

Thy voice like his, the changes of his face 
In thine reflected with still lovelier grace, 
Like echo, sending back sweet music, fraught 
With twice th' aerial sweetness it had brought! 
Yet now he comes — brighter than even he 
E'er beam'd before, — but ah! not bright for thee; 
No — dread, unlook'd for, like a visitant 
From th' other world, he comes, as if to haunt 
Thy guilty soul with dreams of lost delight, 
Long lost to all but memory's aching sight: — 
Sad dreams! as when the spirit of our youth 
Returns in sleep, sparkling with all the truth 
And innocence once ours, and leads us back, 
In mournful mockery, o'er the shining track 
Of our young life, and points out every ray 
Of hope and peace we've lost upon the way! 
Once happy pair ! — in proud Bokhara's groves, 
Who had not heard of their first youthful loves ? 
Born by that ancient flood*, which from its spring 
In the Dark Mountains swiftly wandering, 
Enrich 'd by every pilgrim brook that shines 
With relics from Bucharia's ruby mines, 
And, lending to the Caspian half its strength, 
In the cold Lake of Eagles sinks at length ; — 

* The A moo, which rises in the Belur Tag, ? or^Dark Moun- 
tains, and running nearly from east to west, splits into two 
branches, one of which falls into the Caspian sea, and the 
other into Aral Nahr, or the Lake of Eagles. 






THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 23 

There, on the banks of that bright river born, 
The flowers, that hung* above its wave at morn, 
Bless'd not the waters, as they murmur'd by, 
With holier scent and lustre, than the sigh 
And Virgin glance of first affection cast 
Upon their youth's smooth current, as it pass'd! 
But war disturb'd this vision — far away 
From her fond eyes, summon'd to join th' array 
Of Persia's warriors on the hills of Thrace, 
The youth exchang'd his sylvan dwelling-place 
For the rude tent and war-field's deathful clash; 
His Zelica's sweet glances for the flash 
Of Grecian wild-fire, and Love's gentle chains 
For bleeding bondage on Byzantium's plains. 

Month after month, in widowhood of soul 
Drooping, the maiden saw two summers roll 
Their suns away — but, ah! how cold and dim 
Ev'n summer suns, when not beheld with him! 
From time to time ill-omen'd rumours came, 
(Like spirit-tongues, muttering the sick man's name, 
Just ere he dies, — ) at length, those sounds of dread 
Fell withering on her soul, " Azim is dead!" — 
Oh grief, beyond all other griefs, when fate 
First leaves the young heart lone and desolate 
In the wide world, without that only tie 
For which it lov'd to live or fear'd to die; — 
Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne'er hath spoken 
Since the sad dav its master-chord was broken? 



24 I. ALL A ROOKH. 

Fond maid, the sorrow of her soul was such, 

Ev'n reason sunk blighted beneath its touch; 

And though, ere long, her sanguine spirit rose 

Above the first dead pressure of its woes, 

Though health and bloom return'd, the delicate chain 

Of thought, once tangled, never clear'd again. 

Warm, lively, soft as in youth's happiest day, 

The mind was still all there, but turn'd astray; — • 

A wandering bark, upon whose path-way shone 

All stars of heav'n, except the guiding one! 

Again she smil'd, nay, much and brightly smil'd,, 

But 'twas a lustre, strange, unreal, wild; 

And when she sung to her lute's touching strain, 

'Twas like the notes, half ecstacy, half pain, 

The bulbul* utters, ere her soul depart, 

When, vanquish'd by some minstrel's powerful art, 

She dies upon the lute whose sweetness broke her heart.' 

Such was the mood in which that mission found 
Young Zelica, — that mission, which around 
The Eastern world, in every region blest 
With woman's smile, sought out its loveliest, 
To grace that galaxy of lips and eyes, 
Which the Veil'd Prophet destin'd for the skies! — 
And such quick welcome as a spark receives 
Dropp'd on a bed of autumn's wither'd leaves. 
Did every tale of these enthusiasts find 
In the wild maiden's sorrow-blighted mind. 
* The nightingale. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 25 

All fire at once the madd'ning zeal she caught; — 

Elect of Paradise! blest, rapturous thought! 

Predestin'd bride, in heaven's eternal dome, 

Of some brave youth — ha! durst they say " of some?''' 

No— of the one, one only object trac'd 

In her heart's core too deep to be effac'd; 

The one, whose memory, fresh as life, is twin'd 

With every broken link of her lost mind; 

Whose image lives, though Reason's self be wreck'd, 

Safe 'mid the ruins of her intellect! 

Alas poor Zelica! it needed all 
The fantasy, which held thy mind in thrall, 
To see in that gay Haram's glowing maids 
A sainted colony for Eden's shades; 
Or dream that he,—- of whose unholy flame 
Thou wert too soon the victim, — shining came 
From Paradise, to people its pure sphere 
With souls like thine, which he hath ruin'd here! 
No — had not reason's light totally set, 
And left thee dark, thou had'st an amulet 
In the lov'd image, graven on thy heart, 
Which would have sav'd thee from the tempter's art. 
And kept alive, in all its bloom of breath, 
That purity, whose fading is love's death! — 
But lost, inflam'd, — a restless zeal took place 
Of the mild virgin's still and feminine grace; — 
First of the Prophet's favourites, proudly first 
In zeal and charms,— too well th' Impostor nurs'd 

c 



26 LALLA ROOKH. 

Her soul's delirium, in whose active flame, 

Thus lighting- up a young-, luxuriant frame, 

He saw more potent sorceries to bind 

To his dark yoke the spirits of mankind, 

More subtle chains than hell itself e'er twin'd. 

No art was spar'd, no witchery; — all the skill 

His demons taught him was employ 'd to fill 

Her mind with gloom and ecstacy by turns — 

That gloom through which Frenzy but fiercer burns; 

That ecstacy, which from the depth of sadness 

Glares like the maniac's moon, whose light is madness! 

'Twas from a brilliant banquet, where the sound 
Of poesy and music breath'd around, 
Together picturing to her mind and ear 
The glories of that heav'n, her destin'd sphere, 
Where all was pure, where every stain that lay 
Upon the spirit's light should pass away, 
And, realizing more than youthful love 
E'er wish'd or dream'd, she should for ever rove 
Through fields of fragrance by her Azim's side, 
His own bless'd, purified, eternal bride! — 
? Twas from a scene, a witching trance like this, 
He hurried her away, yet breathing bliss, 
To the dim charnel-house; — through all its steams 
Of damp and death, led only by those gleams 
Which foul Corruption lights, as with design 
To show the gay and proud she too can shine! — 
And, passing on through upright ranks of Dead, 
Which to the maiden, doubly craz'd by dread. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAJV. 27 

SeenTd, through the bluish death-light round them cast. 
To move their lips in mutterings as she pass'd — 
There, in that awful place, when each had quaff'd 
And pledg'd in silence such a fearful draught, 
Such — Oh! the look and taste of that red bowl 
Will haunt her till she dies — he bound her soul 
By a dark oath, in hell's own language fram'd, 
Never, while earth his mystic presence claim'd, 
While the blue arch of day hung o'er them both, 
Never, by that all-imprecating oath, 
In joy or sorrow from his side to sever. — 
She swore, and the wide charnel echoed, "never, 
never!" 

From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given 
To him and — she believ'd, lost maid! — to heaven; 
Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflam'd, 
How proud she stood, when in full Haram nam'd 
The Priestess of the Faith! — how flash'd her eyes 
With light alas! that was not of the skies, 
When round, in trances only less than hers, 
She saw the Haram kneel, her prostrate worshippers! 
Well might Mokanna think that form alone 
Had spells enough to make the world his own: — 
Light, lovely limbs, to which the spirit's play 
Gave motion, airy as the dancing spra}^, 
When from its stem the small bird wings away! 
Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smil'd, 
The soul was lost; and blushes, swift and wild 



2B LALLA LOOKH. 

As are the momentary meteors sent 

Across th' unealm, but beauteous firmament. 

And then her look! — oh! where's the heart so wise, 

Could unbewiiie^d meet those matchless eyes? 

Quick, restless, strange, but exquisite withal, 

Like those of angels, just before their fall; 

Now shadow'd with the shames of earth — now crost 

By glimpses of the Heav'n her heart had lost; 

In every glance there broke, without control, 

The flashes of a bright but troubled soul, 

Where sensibility still wildly play 'd, 

Like lightning, round the ruins it had made! 

And such was now young Zelica — so chang'd 
From her who, some years since, delighted rang'd 
The almond groves, that shade Bokhara's tide, 
All life and bliss, with Azim by her side! 
So alter 'd was she now, this festal day, 
When, mid the proud Divan's dazzling array, 
The vision of that Youth, whom she had lov'd, 
And wept as dead, before her breath'd and mov'd; — 
When — bright, she thought, as if from Eden's track 
But half-way trodden, he had wander 'd back 
Again to earth, glistening with Eden's light,—- 
Her beauteous Azim shone before her sight. 

Oh Reason! who shall say what spells renew. 
When least we look for it, thy broken clew! 
Through what small vistas o'er the darkened brain 
Thy intellectual day-beam bursts again; 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 29 

And how, like forts, to which beleaguerers win 

Unhop'd-for entrance through some friend within, 

One clear idea, wakened in the breast 

By memory's magic, lets in all the rest! 

Would it were thus, unhappy girl, with thee! 

But, though light came, it came but partially; 

Enough to show the maze, in which thy sense 

Wander'd about, — but not to guide it thence; 

Enough to glimmer o'er the yawning wave, 

But not to point the harbour which might save. 

Hours of delight and peace, long left behind, 

With that dear form came rushing o'er her mind; 

But oh! to think how deep her soul had gone 

In shame and falsehood, since those moments shone; 

And, then, her oath — there madness lay again, 

And, shuddering, back she sunk into her chain 

Of mental darkness, as if blest to flee 

From light, whose every glimpse was agony! 

Yet, one relief this glance of former years 

Brought, mingled with its pain, — tears, floods of tears, 

Long frozen at her heart, but now like rills 

Let loose in spring-time from the snowy hills, 

And gushing warm, after a sleep of frost, 

Through valleys where their flow had long been lost! 

Sad and subdued, for the first time her frame 
Trembled with horror, when the summons came, 
(A summons proud and rare, which all but she, 
And she, till now, had heard with ecstasy,) 
c2 



30 LALLA rookh. 

To meet Mokanna at his place of prayer, 
A garden oratory, cool and fair, 
By the stream's side, where still at close of day. 
The Prophet of the Veil retir'd to pray, 
Sometimes alone — but, oftener far, with one, 
One chosen nymph to share his orison. 

Of late none found such favour in his sight 
As the young Priestess; and though, since that night 
When the death-caverns echoed every tone 
Of the dire oath that made her all his own, 
Th' Impostor, sure of his infatuate prize, 
Had, more than once, thrown off his soul's disguise, 
And utter'd such unheav'nly, monstrous things, 
As ev'n across the desperate wanderings 
Of a weak intellect, whose lamp was out, 
Threw startling shadows of dismay and doubt; — 
Yet zeal, ambition, her tremendous vow, 
The thought, still haunting her, of that bright brow 
Whose blaze, as yet from mortal eye conceal'd, 
Would soon, proud triumph! be to her reveal'd. 
To her alone; — and then the hope, most dear, 
Most wild of all, that her transgression here 
Was but a passage through earth's grosser fire, 
From which the spirit would at last aspire, 
Ev'n purer than before, — as perfumes rise 
Through flame and smoke, most welcome to the skies- 
And that when Azim's fond, divine embrace, 
Should circle her in heav'n, no dark'ning trace 



the veiled prophet of khorassan. 31 

Would on that bosom be once lov'd remain, 

But all be bright, be pure, be his again! — 

These were the wildering dreams, whose curst deceit 

Had chain'd her soul beneath the tempter's feet, 

And made her think ev'n damning* falsehood sweet. 

But now that Shape, which had appalFd her view, 

That Semblance — oh how terrible, if true! — 

Which came across her frenzy's full career 

With shock of consciousness, cold, deep, severe, 

As when, in northern seas, at midnight dark, 

An isle of ice encounters some swift bark, 

And, startling all its wretches from their sleep, 

By one cold impulse hurls them to the deep; — 

So came that shock not frenzy's self could bear, 

And waking up each long-lull' d image there, 

But check'd her headlong soul, to sink it in despair! 

Wan and dejected, through the evening dusk, 
She now went slowly to that small kiosk, 
Where, pondering alone his impious schemes, 
Mokanna waited her — too wrapt in dreams 
Of the fair- ripening future's rich success, 
To heed the sorrow, pale and spiritless, 
That sat upon his victim's downcast brow, 
Or mark how slow her step, how alter'd now 
From the quick, ardent Priestess, whose light bound 
Came like a spirit's o'er th' unechoing ground, — 
From that wild Zelica, whose every glance 
Was thrilling fire, whose every thought a trance! 



32 LALLA ROOKH. 

Upon his couch the Veiled Mokanna lay, 
While lamps around — not such as lend their ray, 
Glimmering and cold, to those who nightly pray, 
In holy Koom*, or Mecca's dim arcades, — 
But brilliant, soft, such lights as lovely maids 
Look loveliest in, shed their luxurious glow 
Upon his mystic Veil's white glittering flow. 
Beside him, 'stead of beads, and books of prayer, 
Which the world fondly thought he mused on there, 
Stood vases, filled with KisHMEE'sf golden wine, 
And the red weepings of the Shiraz vine; 
Of which his curtain'd lips full many a draught 
Took zealously, as if each drop they quaff 'd, 
Like Zemzem's Spring of Holiness!, had power 
To freshen the soul's virtues into flower! 
And still he drank and ponder'd — nor could see 
Th' approaching maid, so deep his reverie; 
At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which broke 
From Eblis at the Fall of Man, he spoke: — 
u Yes, ye vile race, for hell's amusement given, 
" Too mean for earth, yet claiming kin with heaven: 

* The cities of Com (or Koom) and Cashan are full of mos- 
ques, mausoleums and sepulchres of the descendants of AH, 
the Saints of Persia. — Chardin 

f An island in the Persian Gulf, celebrated for its white 
wine. 

t The miraculous well at Mecca; so called, says Sale, from 
the murmuring of its waters. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. oo 

" God's images, forsooth! — such gods as he 

" Whom India serves, the monkey deity;* — 

" Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay, 

" To whom if Lucifer, as grandams say, 

" Refus'd, though at the forfeit of heaven's light, 

" To bend in worship, Lucifer was right! — 

" Soon shall I plant this foot upon the neck 

" Of your foul race, and without fear or check, 

" Luxuriating in hate, avenge my shame, 

w My deep-felt, long-nurst loathing of man's name! — 

" Soon, at the head of myriads, blind and fierce 

" As hooded falcons, through the universe 

" I'll sweep my darkening, desolating wa}', 

" Weak man my instrument, curst man my prey! 

" Ye wise, ye learn'd, who grope your dull way on 
" By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone, 
" Like superstitious thieves, who think the light 
" From dead men's marrow guides them best at nightf — 
" Ye shall have honours — wealth, — yes, Sages, yes — 
" I know, grave fools, your wisdom's nothingness; 
" Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere, 
" But a gilt stick, a bauble blinds it here. 

* The god Hannaman. 

f A kind of lantern formerly used by robbers, called the 
Hand of Glory, the candle for which was made of the fat of 
a dead malefactor. This, however, was rather a western than 
an eastern superstition. 



34 LAI, LA ROOKH. 

" How I shall laugh, when trumpetted along, 

" In lying speech, and still more lying song, 

" By these learn'd slaves, the meanest of the throng; 

" Their wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so small 

" A secptre's puny point can wield it all! 

" Ye too, believers of incredible oreeds, 
" Whose faith inshrines the monsters which it breeds, 
" Who, bolder ev'n than Nemrod, think to rise, 
" By nonsense heap'd on nonsense, to the skies; 
" Ye shall have miracles, aye, sound ones too, 
" Seen, heard, attested, every thing — but true. 
" Your preaching zealots, too inspir'd to seek 
" One grace of meaning for the things they speak; 
" Your martyrs, ready to shed out their blood, 
" For truths too heavenly to be understood; 
" And your State Priests, sole venders of the lore, 
" That works salvation; — as on Ava's shore, 
M Where none but priests are privileg'd to trade 
" In that best marble of which Gods are made;* — 
iw They shall have mysteries — aye, precious stuff 
" For knaves to thrive by — mysteries enough; 
" Dark, tangled doctrines; dark as fraud can weaves, 
" Which simple votaries shall on trust receive, 
" While craftier feign belief, till they believe. 
" A Heav'n too ye must have, ye lords of dust, — 
" A splendid Paradise, — pure souls, ye must: 

* Symes's Ava, vol. ii. p. 3/6 






THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 35 

" That Prophet ill sustains his holy call, 

" Who finds not Heav'ns to suit the tastes of all; 

" Houris for boys, omniscience for sages, 

" And wing's and glories for all ranks and ages; 

" Vain things! — as lust or vanity inspires, 

I The Heav'n of each is but what each desires, 

" And, soul or sense, whate'er the object be, 

*' Man would be man to all eternity! 

I So let him — Eblts! grant this crowning curse, 

" But keep him what he is, no Hell were worse." 

" Oh my lost soul!" exclaim'd the shuddering maid, 
Whose ears had drunk like poison all he said; — 
Mokanna started — not abashed, afraid; — 
He knew no more of fear than one who dwells 
Beneatb the tropics knows of icicles! 
But, in those dismal words that reach 'd his ear, 
I Oh my lost soul!" there was a sound so drear, 
So like that voice, among the sinful dead, 
In which the legend o'er Hell's Gate is read, 
That, new as 'twas from her, whom nought could dim 
Or sink till now, it startled even him. 

** Ha, my fair Priestess!" — thus, with ready wile, 

Th' impostor turn'd to greet her — " thou, whose smile 

I Hath inspiration in its rosy beam 

" Beyond th' Enthusiast's hope or Prophet's dream! 

| Light of the Faith! who twin'st religion's zeal 

I So close with love's, men know not which they feel, 



36 LALLA ROOKH. 

" Nor which to sigh for, in their trance of heart, 

" The Heav'n thou preachest or the heav'n thou art! 

" What should I be without thee? without thee 

" How dull were power, how joyless victory! 

" Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine 

" Bless'd not my banner, 'twere but half divine. 

" But—why so mournful, child? those eyes, that shone 

" All life last-night— -what! — is their glory gone? 

" Come, come — this morn's fatigue hath made them pale, 

" They want rekindling — suns themselves would fail, 

" Did not their comets bring, as I to thee, 

" From Light's own fount supplies of brilliancy! 

" Thou seest this cup — no juice of earth is here, 

" But the pure waters of that upper sphere, 

" Whose rills o'er ruby beds and topaz flow, 

" Catching the gem's bright colour, as they go. 

w Nightly my Genii come and fill these urns — 

" Nay, drink — in every drop life's essence burns; 

u Twill make that soul all fire, those eyes all bright — 

" Come, come, I want thy loveliest smiles to-night: 

" There is a youth — why start? — thou saw's t him then; 

" Look'd he not nobly? such the godlike men 

" Thoul't have to woo thee in the bowers above; — 

" Though he^ I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love, 

" Too rul'd by that cold enemy of bliss 

" The world calls virtue — we must conquer this; — 

" Nay, shrink not, pretty sage; 'tis not for thee 

" To scan the mazes of heav'n's mystery. 

" The steel must pass through fire, ere it can yield 

4< Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 37 

" This very night I mean to try the art 

" Of powerful beauty on that warrior's heart. 

" All that my Haram boasts of bloom and wit, 

" Of skill and charms, most rare and exquisite, 

" Shall tempt the boy; — young M irzala's soft eyes, 

" Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies; 

" Arouya's cheeks, warm as a spring-day sun, 

" And lips that, like the seal of Solomon, 

" Have magic in their pressure; Zeba's lute, 

" And Lilla's dancing feet, that gleam and shoot 

" Rapid and white as sea-birds o'er the deep! — 

" All shall combine their witching powers to steep 

" My convert's spirit in that softening trance, 

" From which to heav'n is but the next advance;— 

" That glowing, yielding fusion of the breast, 

" On which Religion stamps her image best. 

" But hear me, Priestess!— though each nymph of these 

" Hath some peculiar, practis'd power to please, 

** Some glance or step which, at the mirror tried, 

u First charms herself, then all the world beside; 

" There still wants one, to make the victory sure, 

" One, who in every look joins every lure; 

" Through whom all beauty's beams concenter'd pass, 

" Dazzling and rich, as through love's burning-glass; 

Whose gentle lips persuade without a word, 
" Whose words, ev'n when unmeaning, are ador'd, 
" Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine, 
" Which our faith takes for granted are divine! 
D 



38 LALLA ROOKfi. 

" Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and light, 

" To crown the rich temptations of to-night; 

" Such the renn'd enchantress that must be 

" This hero's vanquisher, — and thou art she!" 

With her hands clasp'd, her lips apart and pale, 

The maid had stood, gazing upon the Veil 

From which these words, like south-winds through a 

fence 
Of Kerzrah flowers, came fill'd with pestilence:* 
So boldly utter'd too! as if all dread 
Of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were fled, 
And the wretch felt assur'd that, once plung'd in, 
Her woman's soul would know no pause in sin! 

At first, though mute she listen'd, like a dream 
Seem'd all he said; nor could her mind, whose beam 
As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme. 
But when, at length, he uttered " Thou art she!" 
All flash'd at once, and, shrieking piteously, 
" Oh not for worlds!" she cried — " Great God! to whom 
" I once knelt innocent, is this my doom? 
" Are ail my dreams, my hopes of heavenly bliss, 
" My purity, my pride, then come to this,— 
&c To live, the wanton of a fiend! to be 
" The pander of his guilt — oh infamy! 

* w It is commonly said in Persia, that if a man breathe in 
the hot south-wind, which in June or July passes over that 
flower (the Kerzereh) it will kill him.' , — Thevenot. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAX. 39 

" And sunk, myself, as low as hell can steep 

" In its hot flood, drag- others down as deep! 

" Others? — ha! yes — that youth who came to-day — 

" Not him I lov'd — not him — oh! do but say, 

" But swear to me this moment 'tis not he, 

" And I will serve, dark fiend! will worship even thee!" 

" Beware, young raving thing! — in time beware, 
" Nor utter what I cannot, must not bear 
" Ev'n from thy lips. Go — try thy lute, thy voice, 
u The boy must feel their magic — I rejoice 
a To see those fires, no matter whence they rise, 
" Once more illuming my fair Priestess' eyes; 
M And should the youih, whom soon those eyes shall 

warm, 
M Indeed resemble thy dead lover's form, 
" So much the happier wilt thou find thy doom, 
" As one warm lover, full cf life and bloom, 
" Excels ten thousand cold ones in the tomb. 
" Nay, nay, no frowning, sweet! — those eyes were made 
" For love, not auger — I must be obeyM." 

" Obey'd! — 'tis well — yes, I deserve it all — 
" On me, on me heaven's vengeance cannot fall 
" Too heavily — but Azim, brave and true 
" And beautiful — must he be ruin'd too? 
" Must he too, glorious as he is, be driven 
" A renegade like me from Love and Heave at 



40 LALLA ROOKH. 

" Like me? — weak wretch, I wrong him — not like me; 

" No — he's all truth and strength and purity! 

" Fill up your madd'ning hell-cup to the brim, 

" Its witchery, fiends, will have no charm for him. 

M Let loose your glowing wantons from their bowers, 

" He loves, he loves, and can defy their powers! 

" Wretch as I am, in his heart still I reign 

" Pure as when first we met, without a stain! 

" Though ruin'd — lost— my memory, like a charm 

" Left by the dead, still keeps his soul from harm. 

" Oh! never let him know bow deep the brow 

" He kiss'd at parting is dishonour'd now — 

" Ne'er tell him how debas'd, how sunk is she, 

" Whom once he lov'd — once! — still loves dotingly! 

" Thou laugh'st, tormentor, — what! — thou'lt brand my 

name? ^* 

" Do, do— in vain — he'll not believe my shame — w 
" He thinks me true, that nought beneath God's sky 
" Could tempt or change me, and — so once thought I. 
" But this is past — though worse than death my lot, 
" Than hell — 'tis nothing, while he knows it not. 
" Far off to some benighted land I'll fly, 
" Where sunbeam ne'er shall enter till I die; 
" Where none will ask the lost one whence she came, 
" But I may fade and fall without a name! 
" And thou — curst man or fiend, whate'er thou art, 
" Who found'st this burning plague-spot in my heart. 



f* 



THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAN. 41 

M And spread'st it — oh, so quick! — thro' soul and frame 
" With more than demon's art, till I became 
" A loathsome thing, all pestilence, all flame! — 

" If, when I'm gone " 

" Hold, fearless maniac, hold, 
" Nor tempt my rage — by Heav'n, not half so bold 
" The puny bird, that dares with teazing hum 
w Within the crocodile's stretch'd jaws to come!* 
" And so thou'lt fly, forsooth? — what!— give up all 
" Thy chaste dominion in the Haram Hall, 
" Where now to Love and now to All a given, 
" Half mistress and half saint, thou hang'st as even 
" As doth Medina's tomb, 'twixt hell and heaven! 
" Thou'lt flj? — as easily may reptiles run 
" The gaunt snake once hath fix'd his eyes upon; 
" As easily, when caught, the prey may be 
" Pluck'd from his loving folds , as thou from me. 
M No, no, 'tis fix'd — let good or ill betide, 
" Thou'rt mine till death, till death Mok anna's bride! 
" Hast thou forgot thy oath?" — 

At this dread word, 
The Maid, whose spirit his rude taunts had stirr'd 
Through all its depths, and rous'd an anger there. 
That burst and lighten'd ev'n through her despair! — 



* The ancient story concerning the Trochilus, or hum- 
ming bird, entering with impunity into the mouth of the 
crocodile, is firmly believed at Java.— Barrow's Cochin-china* 

D 2 



42 LALLA ROOKH. 

Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath, 
That spoke that word, and stagger'd, pale as death. 

" My sworn Bride, let others seek in bowers 
" Their bridal place — the channel vault was ours! 
" Instead of scents and balms, for thee and me 
" Rose the rich steams of sweet mortality; 
" Gay, flickering death-lights shone while we were wed, 
" And, for our guests, a row of goodly Dead, 
" (Immortal spirits in their time no doubt,) 
"From reeking shrouds upon the rite look'd out! 
" That oath thou heardst more lips than thine repeat — 
" That cup — thou shudderest, Lady — was it sweet? 
* That cup we pledg'd, the charnel's choicest wine, 
1 Hath bound thee — aye — body and soul all mine! 
u Bound thee by chains that, whether blest or curst- 
" No matter now, not hell itself shall burst! 
a Hence, woman, to the Haram, and look gay, 
" Look wild, look — any thing but sad; yet stay — 
" One moment more — from what this night hath pass'd, 
" I see thou know'st me, know'st me well at last. 
" Ha! ha! and so, fond thing, thou thought'st all true, 
" And that I love mankind! — I do, I do— 
" As victims, love them; as the sea-dog dotes 
" Upon the small, sweet fry that round him floats; 
" Or, as the Nile-bird loves the slime that gives 
65 That rank and venomous food on which she lives! * 

* Circum easdem ripas (Nili, viz.) ales est Ibis. Ea ser- 
pentiurn populatur ova, gratissimamque ex his escam nidis 
guis refert.— • Solinus. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAX. 43 

»• And, now thou see'st my souVs angelic hue, 
u 'Tis time these features were uncurtain'd too; — 
" This brow, whose light — oh rare, celestial light! 
" Hath been reserv'd to bless thy favour'd sight; 
M These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might 
" Thou'st seen immortal Man kneel down and quake — 
" Would that they were heaven's lightnings for his sake' 
" But turn and look — then wonder, if thou wilt, 
" That I should hate, should take revenge, by guilt, 
" Upon the hand, whose mischief or whose mirth 
" Sent me thus maim'd and monstrous upon earth; 
;; And on that race who, though more vile they be 
" Than mowing apes, are demi-gods to me! 
" Here — judge if Hell, with all its power to damn, 
" Can add one curse to the foul thing I am!" — 

He rais'd his veil —the Maid turn'd slowly round, 
Look'd at him-— shriek'd — and sunk upon the ground! 



44 &ALLA ROOKtt. 



UN their arrival, next night, at the place of encamp- 
ment, they were surprised and delighted to find the 
groves all round illuminated; some artists of Yamtcheou 
having been sent on previously for the purpose. On 
each side of the green alley, which led to the Royal 
Pavilion, artificial sceneries of bamboo-work were erect- 
ed, representing arches, minarets and towers, from 
which hung thousands of silken lanterns, painted by the 
most delicate pencils of Canton. — Nothing could be 
more beautiful than the leaves of the mango-trees and 
acacias, shining in the light of the bamboo scenery, 
which shed a lustre round as soft as that of the nights 
of Peristan. 

Lalla Kookh, however, who was too much occupied 
by the sad story of Zelica and her lover, to give a 
thought to any thing else, except, perhaps, him who 
related it, hurried on through this scene of splendour 
to her pavilion, greatly to the mortification of the poor 
artists of Yamtcheou, and was followed with equal ra- 
pidity by the Great Chamberlain, cursing, as he went, 
that ancient Mandarin whose parental anxiety in lighting 
up the shores of the lake where his beloved daughter 
had wandered and had been lost, was the origin of these 
fantastic Chinese illuminations. 



LALLA ROOKH. 45 

Without a moment's delay young Feramorz was 
introduced, and Fadladeen, who could never make up 
his mind as to the merits of a poet, till he knew the 
religious sect to which he belonged, was about to ask 
him whether he was a Shia or a Sooni, when Lalla 
Rookh impatiently clapped her hands for silence, and 
the youth, being seated upon the musnud near her, 
proceeded:— 



46 LALLA R00KM. 



JrREPARE thy soul, young Azim! — thou hast brav'd 

The bands of Greece, still mighty though enslav'd; 

Hast fac'd her phalanx, arm'd with all its fame, 

Her Macedonian pikes and globes of flame; 

All this hast fronted, with firm heart and brow, 

But a more perilous trial waits thee now, — 

Woman's bright eyes, a dazzling host of eyes 

From every land where woman smiles or sighs; 

Of every hue, as Love may chance to raise 

His black or azure banner in their blaze; 

And each sweet mode of warfare, from the flash 

That lightens boldly throug'h the shadowy lash, 

To the sly, stealing splendours, almost hid, 

Like swords half-sheath'd, beneath the downcast lid. 

Such, Azim, is the lovely, luminous host 

Now led against thee; and, let conquerors boast 

Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms 

A young, warm spirit against beauty's charms, 

Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall, 

Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all. 

Now, through the Haram chambers, moving lights 
And busy shapes proclaim the toilet's rites; — 
From room to room the ready handmaids hie, 
Some skill'd to wreath the turban tastefully, 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORA3SAN, 47 

Or hang the veil, in negligence of shade, 

O'er the warm blushes of the youthful maid, 

Who, if between the folds but one eye shone, 

Like Seba's Queen could vanquish with that one: — * 

While some bring leaves of Henna, to imbue 

The fingers' ends with a bright roseate hue,f 

So bright, that in the mirror's depth they seem 

Like tips of coral branches in the stream; 

And others mix the Kohol's jetty dye, 

To give that long, dark languish to the eye,| 

Which makes the maids, whom kings are proud to cull 

From fair Circassia's vales, so beautiful! 

All is in motion; rings and plumes and pearls 

^.re shining every where: — some younger girls 

Are gone by moonlight to the garden beds, 

To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads; 

Gay creatures! sweet, though mournful 'tis to see 

How each prefers a garland from that tree 

Which brings to mind her childhood's innocent day, 

And the dear fields and friendships far away. 

* " Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes." 
— Sol. Song. 

f "They tinged the ends of her fingers scarlet with 
Henna, so that they resembled branches of coral." — Story of 
Prince Futtun in Bahardanush. 

$ The women black the inside of their eyelids with a pow- 
der named the black KohoL— Russell 



48 LALLA ROOKH. 

The maid of India, blest again to hold 
In her full lap the Champac's leaves of gold,* 
Thinks of the time when, by the Ganges' flood. 
Her little playmates scatter'd many a bud 
Upon her long black hair, with glossy gleam 
Just dripping from the consecrated stream; 
While the young Arab, haunted by the smell 
Of her own mountain flowers, as by a spell, — 
The sweefrElcayaf, and that courteous tree 
Which bows to all who seek its canopyj — 
Sees, call'd up round her by these magic scents, 
The well, the camels, and her father's tents; 
Sighs for the home she left with little pain, 
And wishes ev'n its sorrows back again! 

Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls, 
Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls 
Of fragrant waters, gushing with cool sound 
From many a jasper fount is heard around, 

• w The appearance of the blossoms of the gold-coloured 
Campac on the black hair of the Indian women, has supplied 
the Sanscrit Poets with many elegant allusions."— v. Asiatic 
Researches, vol. iv. 

f \ tree famous for its perfume, and common on the hills 
of Yemen. — Niebuhr. 

£ Of the genus mimosa, M which droops its branches when- 
ever any person approaches it, seeming as if it saluted those 
who retire under its shade."— JSfiebiihr. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAJt. 49 

Young Azim roams bewilder'd, — nor can guess 
What means this maze of light and loneliness. 
Here, the way leads o'er tesselated floors 
Or mats of Cairo through long corridors, 
Where, rang'd in cassolets and silver urns, 
Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns; 
And spicy rods, such as illume at night 
The bowers of Tibet* send forth odorous light, 
Like Peris' wands, when pointing out the ~oad 
For some pure Spirit to its blest abode! — 
And here, at once, the glittering saloon 
Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon; 
Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays 
In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays 
High as th' enamell'd cupola, which towers 
All rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers: 
And the mosaic floor beneath shines through 
The sprinkling of that fountain's silvery dew, 
Like the wet, glistening shells, of every dye, 
That on the margin of the Red Sea lie. 

Here too he traces the kind visitings 
Of woman's love in those fair, living things 
Of land and wave, whose fate, — in bondage thrown 
For their weak loveliness — is like her own! 

* w Cloves are a principal ingredient in the composition of 
the perfumed rods, which men of rank keep constantly 
burning in their presence." — Turner's Tibet. 



50 LALLA ROOKH. 

On one side gleaming with a sudden grace 

Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase 

In which it undulates, small fishes shine, 

Like golden ingots from a fairy mine; — 

While on the other, lattic'd lightly in 

With odoriferous woods of Camortn,* 

Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen;— 

Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between 

The crimson blossoms of the coral treef 

In the warm isles of India's sunny sea: 

Mecca's blue sacred pigeon,J and the thrush 

Of Hindostan,§ whose holy warblings gush, 

At evening, from the tall pagoda's top; — 

Those golden birds that, in the spice-time drop 

About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food 

Whose scent hath lurd them o'er the summer flood; D 

* C'est d'ou vient le bois d'aloes, que les Arabes appellent 
Oud Comari, et celui du sandal, qui s'y trouve en grande 
quantite — D'JIerbelot. 

f " Thousands of variegated loories visit the coral -trees." 
— Barrow. 

+ " In Mecca there are quantities of blue pigeons, which 
none will affright or abuse, much less kill." — Pitfs Account 
of the JMoJiometans. 

§ " The Pagoda Thrush is esteemed among the first cho- 
risters of India It sits perched on the sacred Pagodas, and from 
thence delivers its melodious song." — Pennant's Ilindost an. 

({ Birds of Paradise, which, at the nutmeg season, come in 
flights from the southern isles to India, and "the strength of 



i 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 51 

And those that under Araby's soft sun 
Build their high nests of budding- cinnamon.* 
In short, all rare and beauteous things, that fly 
Through the pure element, here calmly lie 
Sleeping- in light, iike the green birdsf that dwell 
In Eien's radiant fields of asphodel! 

So on, through scenes past all imagining, — 
More like the luxuries of that impious King, J 
Whom Death's dark Angel, with his lightning torch, 
Struck down and blasted ev'n in Pleasure's porch, 
Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet, sent, 
Arm'd with Heav'n's sword, for man's enfranchise- 
ment — 
Young Azim wander'd, looking sternly round, 
His simple garb and war-boots' clanking sound 
But ill according with the pomp and grace 
And silent lull of that voluptuous place? 

" Is this then," thought the youth, " is this the way 
" To free man's spirit from the deadening sway 

the nutmeg," says Tavernier, " so intoxicates them that 
they fall dead drunk to the earth , M 

• " That bird which liveth in Arabia, and buildeth its 
nest with cinnamon." — Brown's Vulgar Errors. 

\ " The spirits of the martyrs will be lodged in the crops 
of green birds" — Gibbon, vol ix. p. 421. 

i Shedad, vho made the delicious gardens of I rim, in imi- 
tation of Paradise, and was destroyed by lightning the first 
time he attempted to enter them. 



52 LALLA ROOKH. 

" Of wordly sloth; — to teach him, while he lives, 

" To know no bliss but that which virtue gives, 

" And when he dies, to leave his lofty name 

" A light, a land-mark on the cliffs of fame? 

" It was not so, land of the generous thought 

" And daring deed! thy godlike sages taught; 

" It was not thus, in bowers of wanton ease, 

" Thy Freedom nurs'd her sacred energies; 

" Oh! not beneath th' enfeebling, withering glow 

" Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow, 

" With which she wreath'd her sword, when she would 

" dare 
** Immortal deeds; but in the bracing air 
" Of toil — of temperance— of that high, rare, 
" Ethereal virtue, which alone can breathe 
u Life, health, and lustre into Freedom's wreath! 
" Who, that surveys this span of earth we press, 
" This speck of life in time's great wilderness, 
" This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, 
" The past 5 the future, two eternities! — 
" Would sully the bright spot or leave it bare, 
•" When he might build him a proud temple there, 
" A name, that long shall hallow all its space, 
" And be each purer soul's high resting-place! 
" But no — it cannot be, that one, whom God 
" Has sent to break the wizard Falsehood's rod, — 
u A Prophet of the truth, whose mission draws 
" Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane his cause 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 53 

" With the world's vulgar pomps; — no, no — I see — 

" He thinks me weak — this glare of luxury 

" Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze 

" Of my young soul; — shine on, 'twill stand the blaze!" 

So thought the youth; — but, ev'n while he defied 
This witching scene, he felt its witchery glide 
Through every sense. The perfume, breathing round, 
Like a pervading spirit: — the still sound 
Of falling waters, lulling as the song 
Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng 
Around the fragrant Nilica, and deep 
In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep!* 
And music too — dear music! that can touch 
Beyond all else the soul that loves it much— 
Now heard far off, so far as but to seem 
Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream; — 
All was too much for him, too full of bliss, 
The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this; 
Soften'd he sunk upon a couch, and gave 
His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave 
Succeeding in smooth seas, when storms are laid; — 
He thought of Zelica, his own dear maid, 
And of the time when, full of blissful sighs, 
They sat and look'd into each other's eyes, 

* " My Pandits assure me that the plant before us (the 
Nilica) is their Sephalica, thus named because the bees are 
supposed to sleep on its blossoms." — Sir JV. Jones. 
E 2 



54 LALLA ROOKH. 

Silent and happy — as if God had given 

Nought else worth looking at on this side heaven! 

" Oh my lov'd mistress! whose enchantments still 
" Are with me, round me, wander where I will — 
" It is for thee, for thee alone I seek 
" The paths of glory — to light up thy cheek 
" With warm approval — in that gentle look, 
" To read my praise, as in an angel's hook, 
" And think all toils rewarded, when from thee 
" I gain a smile, worth immortality! 
" How shall I bear the moment, when restor'd 
" To that young heart where I alone am Lord, 
" Though of such bliss unworthy, — since the best 
" Alone deserve to be the happiest! — 
" When from those lips, unbreath'd upon for years, 
" I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears, 
" And find those tears warm as when last they started, 
" Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted! 
" Oh my own life! — why should a single day, 
" A moment keep me from those arms away?" 

While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze 
Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies, 
Each note of which but adds new, downy links 
To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks. 
He turns him tow'rd the sound, and, far away 
Through a long vista, sparkling with the play 
Of countless lamps, — like the rich track which Day 



THE VEILED PROPHET OY KHORASSAN. 55 

Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us; 
So long- the path, its light so tremulous; — 
He sees a group of female forms advance, 
Some chain'd together in the mazy dance 
By fetters, forg'd in the green sunny bowers, 
As they were captives to the King of Flowers; — 
And some disporting round, unlink'd and free, 
Who seem'd to mock their sisters' slavery, 
And round and round them still, in wheeling flight 
Went like gay moths about a lamp at night; — 
While others wak'd, as gracefully along 
Their feet kept time, the very soul of song 
From psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill, 
Or their own youthful voices, heavenlier still! 
And now they come, now pass before his eye, 
Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie 
With Fancy's pencil, and give birth to things 
Lovely beyond its fairest picturings! 
Awhile they dance before him, then divide, 
Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide 
Around the rich pavilion of the sun, — 
Till silently dispersing, one by one, 
Through many a path that from the chamber leads 
To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads, 
Their distant laughter comes upon the wind, 
And but one trembling nymph remains behind, 
Beck'ning them back in vain, for they are gone, 
And she is left in all that light alone; 
No veil to curtain o'er her beauteous brow, 
In its young bashfulness more beauteous now; 



56 LALLA ROOKH. 

But a light, golden chain-work round her hair, 

Such as the maids of Yezd and Shiraz wear, 

From which, on either side, gracefully hung 

A golden amulet, in th' Arab tongue, 

Engraven o'er with some immortal line 

From holy writ, or bard scarce less divine; 

While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood, 

Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood, 

Which, once or twice, she touch'd with hurried strain. 

Then took her trembling fingers off again. 

But when at length a timid glance she stole 

At Azim, the sweet gravity of soul 

She saw through all his features calm'd her fear, 

And, like a half-tam'd antelope, more near, 

Though shrinking still, she came; — then sat her down 

Upon a musnud's* edge, and bolder grown, 

In the pathetic mode of Isfahan! 

Touch'd a preluding strain, and thus began: 

There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream}, 
And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; 

In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, 
To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. 

That bower and its music I never forget, 

•Muwiuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for per- 
sons of distinction. 

fThe Persians, like the ancient Greeks, call their musical 
modes or Perdas by the names of different countries or cities, 
as the mode of Isfahan, the mode of Irak, &c. 

% A river which flows near tke ruins of Chilminar. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 57 

But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, 
I think — is the nightingale singing there yet? 

Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer? 

No, the roses soon wither'd that hung o'er the wave, 

But some blossoms were gather'd, while freshly they 
shone, 
And a dew was distill'd from their flowers, that gave 

All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. 
Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, 

An essence that breathes of it many a year; 
Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, 

Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer! 

" Poor maiden!" thought the youth, " if thou wertsent, 
" With thy soft lute and beauty's blandishment, 
" To wake unholy wishes in this heart, 
" Or tempt its truth, thou little know'st the art. 
" For though thy lips should sweetly counsel wrong, 
" Those vestal eyes would disavow its song. 
<c But thou hadst hreath'd such purity, thy lay 
<€ Returns so fondly to youth's virtuous day, 
" And leads thy soul — if e'er it wander'd thence — 
u So gently hack to its first innocence, 
" That I would sooner stop th' unchained dove> 
" When swift returning to its home of love, 
" And round its snowy wing new fetters twine, 
" Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine!" 

Scarce had this feeling pass'd, when, sparkling through 
The gently open'd curtains of light blue 



58 LALLA ROOKH. 

That veil'd the breezy casement, countless eyes 
Peeping* like stars through the blue evening skies, 
Look'd laughing in, as if to mock the pair 
That sat so still and melancholy there. — 
And now the curtains fly apart, and in 
From the cool air, 'mid showers of jessamine 
Which those within fling after them in play, 
Two lightsome maidens spring, lightsome as they 
Who live in th' air on odours, and around 
The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground, 
Chace one another, in a varying dance 
Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance, 
Too eloquently, like love's warm pursuit: — 
While she, who sung so gently to the lute 
Her dream of home, steals timidly away, 
Shrinking as violets do in summer's ray, 
But takes with her from Azim's heart that sigh 
We sometimes give to forms that pass us by 
In the world's crowd, too lovely to remain, 
Creatures of light we never see again! 

Around the white necks of the nymphs who danc'd 
Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanc'd 
More brilliaut than the sea-glass glittering o'er 
The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore;* 

* " T> the north of us, (on the coast of the Caspian, near 
Badku) was a mountain, which sparkled like diamonds, ari- 
sing from the sea-giass and crystals, with which it abounds.** 
—Journey of the Russian Ambassador to Persia^ 1746, 



THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAN. &9 

While from their long", dark tresses, in a fall 

Of curls descending, bells as musical 

As those that, on the golden shafted trees 

Of Eden shake in the eternal breeze,* 

Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet. 

As 'twere th'ecstatic language of their feet! 

At length the chace was o'er, and they stood wreath'd 

Within each other's arms; while soft there breath'd 

Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs 

Of moonlight flowers, music that seemed to rise 

From some still lake, so liquidly it rose, 

And, as it swell'd again at each faint close, 

The ear could track through all that maze of chords 

And young sweet voices, these impassioned words: — 

A spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh 

Is burning now through earth and air 
Where cheeks are blushing, the spirit is nigh. 

Where lips are meeting, the spirit is there! 

His breath is the soul of Mowers like these, 
And his floating eyes — oh! they resemble 

Blue water-lilies,f when the breeze 

Is making the stream around them tremble. 

* " To which will be added* the sound of the bells, hang, 
ing on the trees, which will be put in motion by the wind pro- 
ceeding from the throne of God, as often as the blessed wish 
for music."-— &zfe. 

f The blue lotos, which grows in Cashmere and in Persia. 



60 LALLA ROOKH. 

Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power! 

Spirit of love, spirit of bliss! 
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, 

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. 

By the fair and brave, 

Who blushing unite, 
Like the sun and wave, 

When they meet at night! 

By the tear that shows 

When passion is nigh, 
As the rain-drop flows 

From the heat of the sky! 

By the first love-beat 

Of the youthful heart, 
By the bliss to meet, 

And the pain to part! 

By all that thou hast 

To mortals given, 
Which — oh! could it last, 

This earth were heaven! 

We call thee hither, entrancing power! 

Spirit of love! spirit of bliss! 
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour. 

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAN. 61 

Impatient of a scene, whose luxuries stole, 
Spite of himself, too deep into his soul, 
And where, midst all that the young heart loves most, 
Flowers, music, smiles, to yield was to be lost, 
The youth had started up, and turn'd away 
From the light nymphs and their luxurious lay, 
To muse upon the pictures that hung round, — 
Bright images, that spoke without a sound, 
And views, like vistas into fairy ground: 
But here again new spells came o'er his sense; — 
All that the pencil's mute omnipotence 
Could call up into life, of soft and fair, 
Of fond and passionate, was glowing there; 
Nor yet too warm, but touched with that fine art 
Which paints of pleasure but the purer part; 
Which knows e'en Beauty, when half veil'd is best, 
Like her own radiant planet of the west, 
Whose orb when half retired looks loveliest! 
There hung the history of the Genii-King, 
Trac'd through each gay, voluptuous wandering 
With her from Saba's bowers, in whose bright eyes 
He read that to be blest is to be wise;* 
Here fond Zuleikaj woos with open arms 
The Hebrew boy, who flies from her young charms, 

* For the loves of king Solomon, (who was supposed to 
preside over the whole race of Genii) with Balkis, the queen 
of Sheba or Saba v. D 9 fferbelot 9 and the Notes on the Koran^ 
Chap. 27. 

f The wife of Potiphar, thus namad by the Orientals- 
F 



62 LALLA ROOKH. 

Yet, flying-, turns to gaze, and half undone, 
Wishes that heaven and she could both be won! 
And here Mohammed, born for love and guile, 
Forgets the Koran in his Mary's smile; 
Then beckons some kind angel from above 
With a new text to consecrate their love* 

With rapid step, yet pleasM and lingering eye, 
Did the youth pass these pictur'd stories by, 
And hastened to a casement, where the light 
Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright 
The fields without were seen, sleeping as still 
As if no life remain'd in breeze or rill. 
Here paus'd he, while the music, now less near, 
Breath'd with a holier language on his ear, 
As though the distance, and that heavenly ray 
Through which the sounds came floating, took away 
All that had been too earthly in the lay. 
Oh! could he listen to such sounds unmov'd 
And by that light — nor dream of her he loved? 
Dream on unconscious boy! while yet thou may'st; 
'Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste. 
Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart, 
Ere all the light that made it dear depart. 

Her adventure with the patriarch Joseph is the subject of ma- 
ny of their poems and romances. 

* The particulars of Mahomet's amour with Mary, the 
Coptic girl, in j ustification of which he added a new chapter 
to the Koran, may be found in Gagnier's Notes upon JLbvU 
feda, p. 151. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 63 

Think of her smiles as when thou saw'st them last 
Clear, beautiful, by nought of earth o'ercast; 
Recal her tears, to thee at parting- given, 
Pure as they weep, if angels weep, in heaven! 
Think in her own still bower she waits thee now, 
With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow, 
Yet shrin'd in solitude — thine all, thine only, 
Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely! 
Oh that a dream so sweet, so long enjoy'd, 
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroy 'd ! 

The song is hush'd, the laughing nymphs are flown, 
And he is left, musing of bliss, alone; 
Alone? — no, not alone — that heavy sigh, 
That sob of grief, which broke from some one nigh — 
Whose could it be? alas! is misery found 
Here, even here on this enchanted ground? 
He turns, and sees a female form, close veil'd, 
Leaning as if both heart and strength had failed, 
Against a pillar near; not glittering o'er 
With gems and wreaths, such as the others wore, 
But in that deep blue, melancholy dress,* 
Bokhara's maidens wear in mindfulness 
Of friends or kindred, dead, or far away; 
And such as Zelica had on that day 
He left her, when, with heart too full to speak, 
He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek. 

* Deep blue is their mourning colour." — ffanwey> 



64 LALLA ROOKH. 

A strange emotion stirs within him, more 
Than mere compassion ever wak'd before; — 
Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she 
Springs forward, as with life's last energy, 
But, swooning in that one convulsive bound, 
Sinks ere she reach his arms, upon the ground;— 
Her veil falls off — her faint hands clasp his knees— 
'Tis she herself! — 'tis Zelica he sees! 
But, ah, so pale, so chang'd, — none but a lover 
Could in that wreck of beauty's shrine dicover 
The once ador'd divinity! ev'n he 
Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly 
Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gaz'd 
Upon those lids, where once such lustre blaz'd, 
Ere he could think she was indeed his own, 
Own darling maid, whom he so long had known 
In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both; 
Who, ev'n when grief was heaviest — when loth 
He left her for the wars — in that worst hour 
Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower,* 
When darkness brings its weeping glories out, 
And spreads its sighs like frankincense about! 

u Look up, my Zelica — one moment show 
k < Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know 
M Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone, 
" But there, at least, shines as it ever shone. 

* The sorrowful nyctanthes, which begins to spread its 
rich odour after sun. set. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHOR ASSAYS'. 65 

•'■ Come, look upon thy Azim — one dear glance, 

" Like those of old, were heavn! whatever chance 

" Hath brought thee here, oh! 'twas a blessed one! 

u There — my sweet lids — they move — that kiss hath run 

" Like the first shoot of life through every vein, 

" And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again! 

s< Oh the delight — now, in this very hour, 

" When had the whole rich world been in my power, 

:i I should have singled out thee, only thee, 

" From the whole world's collected treasury — 

" To have thee here — to hang thu^ fondly o'er 

" My own best, purest Zelica once more!" 

It was indeed the touch of those !<%d lips 
Upon her eyes thatchac'd the short eclipse, 
And, gradual as the snow, at heaven's breath, 
Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath, 
Her lids unclos'd, and the bright eyes were seen 
Gazing on his; — not as they late had been, 
Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene, 
As if to lie, ev'n for that tranced minute, 
So near his heart, had consolation in it; 
And thus to wake in his belov'd caress 
Took from her soul one half its wretchedness. 
But when she heard him call her good and pure, 
Oh! 'twas too much — too dreadful to endure! 
Shuddering she broke away from his embrace, 
And, hiding with both hands her guilty face, 
F 2 



60 LALLA ROOKH. 

Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riven 
A heart of very marble, " pure! — oh Heaven." — — 

That tone — those looks so changed — the withering 
blight, 
That sin and sorrow leave where'er they light — 
The dead despondency of those sunk eyes, 
Where once, had he thus met her by surprize, 
He would have seen himself, too happy boy, 
Reflected in a thousand lights of joy; 
And then the place, that bright unholy place, 
Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace 
And charm of luxury, as the viper weaves 
Its wily covering ^gweet balsam-leaves;* — 
All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold 
As death itself; — it needs not to be told — 
No, no — he sees it all, plain as the brand 
Of burning shame can mark — whate'er the, hand, 
That could from heav'n and him such brightness sever, 
'Tis done — to heav'n and him, she's lost for ever! 
It was a dreadful moment; not the tears 
The lingering, lasting misery of years 
Could match that minute's anguish; — all the worst 
Of sorrow's elements in the dark burst 

* " Concerning the vipers, which Pliny says were fre- 
quent among the balsam trees, I made very particular in- 
quiry; several were brought me alive both at Yambo and 
Jidda.^ifrwce. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 67 

Broke o'er his soul, and with one crash of fate, 
Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate! 

" Oh! curse me not," she cried, as wild he toss'd 
His desperate hand tow'rds heav'n — " though I am lost, 
" Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall, 
" No, no— 'twas grief, 'twas madness did it allf 
" Nay, doubt me not — though all thy love hath ceas'd-— 
" I know it hath — yet, yet believe, at least, 
" That every spark of reason's light must be 
" Quench'd in this brain, ere I could stray from thee! 
" They told me thou wert dead — why, Azim, why 
" Did we not, both of us, that instant die 
" When we were parted?— oh! could'st thou but know 
" With what a deep devotedness of wo 
" I wept thy absence — o'er and o'er again 
" Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, 
" And memory, like a drop that, night and day, 
" Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away! 
" Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home, 
11 My eyes still turn'd the way thou wert to come, 
" And, all the long, long night of hope and fear, 
" Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear — 
" Oh God! thou would'st not wonder that, at last, 
" When every hope was all at once o'ercast, 
11 When I heard frightful voices round me say 
" Azim is dead!— this wretched brain gave way, 
" And I became a wreck, at random driven, 
i: Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven— 



6& LAtLA ROOKH. 

u All wild — and ev'n this quenchless love within 

" Turn'd to foul fires to light me into sin! 

" Thou pitiest me— *I knew thou would'st — that sky 

" Hath nought beneath it half so lorn as I. 

" The fiend, who lur'd me hither — hist! come near, 

" Or thou too, thou art lost, if he should hear— 

" Told me such things— oh! with such devilish art, 

" As would have ruin'd ev'n a holier heart — 

<c Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere, 

" Where bless'd at length, if I but serv'd/ii//i here, 

a I should for ever live in thy dear sight, 

" And drink from those pure eyes eternal light! 

" Think, think how lost, how madden'd I must be, 

" To hope that guilt could lead to God or thee! 

" Thou weep'st forme — do, weep— oh! that I durst 

" Kiss off that tear! but, no — these lips are curst, 

" They must not touch thee;— one divine caress, 

" One blessed moment of forgetfulness 

" I've had within those arms, and that shall lie, 

" Shrin'd in my soul's deep memory till I die! 

" That last of joy's last relics here below, 

" The one sweet drop, in all this waste of wo, 

" My heart has treasur'd from affection's spring, 

" To sooth and cool its deadly withering! 

" But thou— yes, thou must go — for ever go; 

" This place is not for thee — for thee! oh no, 

" Did I but tell thee half, thy tortur'd brain 

" Would burn like mine, and mine go wild again! 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN 69 

M Enough, that Guilt reigns here — that hearts, once 

" good, 
M Now tainted, chill'd and broken, are his food. — 
" Enough, that we are parted — that there rolls 
" A flood of headlong fate between our souls, 

Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee 
" As hell from heav'n, to all eternity!" — 
"Zelica! Zelica!" the youth exclaim'd, 
In all the tortures of a mind inflam'd 
Almost to madness — " by that sacred Heav'n, 
" Where yet, if pray'rs can move, thou'lt be forgiven, 
44 As thou art here — here, in this writhing heart, 
" All sinful, wild and ruin'd as thou art! 
44 By the remembrance of our once pure love, 
" Which, like a church-yard light, still burns above 
u The grave of our lost souls — which guilt in thee 
M Cannot extinguish, nor despair in me! 
" I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence — 
M If thou hast yet one spark of innocence, 

k » Fly with me from this place, " 

" With thee! oh bliss, 
* 4 'Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this. 
" What! take the lost one with thee? let her rove 
k4 By thy dear side, as in those days of love, 
44 When we were both so happy, both so pure — 
44 Too heavenly dream! if there's on earth a cure 
u For the sunk heart, 'tis this — day after day 
44 To be the blest companion of thy way; — 
i4 To hear thy angel eloquence — to see 
%i Those virtuous eyes for ever turn'd on me; 



70 LALLA ROOKIi. 

'< And in their light re-chasten'd silently, 

" Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sum 

w Grow pure by being" purely shone upon! 

" And thou wilt pray for me — I know thou wilt — 

" At the dim vesper hour, when thoughts of guilt 

" Come heaviest o'er the heart, thou'lt lift thine eyes, 

w Full of sweet tears unto the darkening skies, 

u And plead for me with Heav'n, till I can dare 

M To fix my own weak, sinful glances there; — 

" Till the good angels, when they see me cling 

" For ever near thee, pale and sorrowing, 

" Shall for thy sake, pronounce my soul forgiven, 

" And bid thee take thy weeping slave to heaven! 

« Oh yes, I'll fly with thee " 

Scarce had she said 
These breathless words* when a voice deep and dread 
As that of Monker, waking up the dead 
From their first sleep — so startling 'twas to both- — 
Rung through the casement near " Thy oath! thy oath!' 5 
Oh Heav'n, the ghastliness of that Maid's look! — . 
" 'Tis he," faintly she cried, while terror shook 
Her inmost core, nor durst she lift her eyes, 
Though through the casement, now, nought but the skies 
And moon-light fields were seen, calm as before — • 
" 'Tis he, and I am his — all, all is o'er — 
" Go — fly this instant, or thou'rt ruin'd too — 
" My oath, my oath, oh God! 'tis all too true, 
" True as the worm in this cold heart it is — 
M I am Mokanna's bride — his, Azim, his — 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. Jf| 

^ The Dead stood round us, while I spoke that vow, 

" Their blue lips echoed it — I hear them now! 

" Their eyes glar'd on me, while I pledged that bowl, 

M 'Twas burning 1 blood — I feel it in my soul! 

" And the VeiPd Bridegroom — hist! I've seen to-night 

" What angels know not of — so foul a sight, 

" So horrible^ — oh! never may'st thou see 

" What there lies hid from all but hell and me! 

" But I must hence — off, off — I am not thine! 

" Nor Heav'n's, nor Love's, nor aught that is divine— 

** Hold me not — ha! think'st thou the fiends that sever 

" Hearts, cannot sunder hands? thus, then — for evert 9 ? 

With all that strength, which madness lends the weak, 
She flung away his arm; and with a shriek, 
Whose sound, though he should linger out more years 
Than wretch e'er told, can never leave his ears, 
Flew up through that long avenue of light, 
Fleetly as some dark, ominous bird of night 
Across the sun, and soon was out of sijrht' 



LALLA ROOKH. 



JjALLA ROOKH could think of nothing all day but 
the misery of these two young" lovers. Her gayety was 
gone, and she looked pensively even upon Fadladeen 
She felt too, without knowing why, a sort of uneasy plea- 
sure in imagining that Azim must have been just such 
a youth as Feramorz; just as worthy to enjoy all the 
blessings, without any of the pangs, of that illusive pas- 
eion, which too often, like the sunny apples of Istkahar, 
is all sweetness on one side, and all bitterness on the 
other. 

As they passed along a -sequestered river after sunset, 
they saw a young Hindoo girl upon the bank, whose 
employment seemed to them so strange, that they stopped 
their palankeens to observe her. She had lighted a small 
lamp, filled with oil of cocoa, and placing it in an earthen 
dish, adorned with a wreath of flowers, had committed it 
with a trembling hand to the stream, and was now anxi- 
ously watching its progress down the current, heedless 
of the gay cavalcade which had drawn up beside her. 
Lalla Rookh was all curiosity; when one of her atten- 
dants, who had lived upon the banks of the Ganges, 
(where this ceremony is so frequent, that often in the 
dusk of the evening, the river is seen glittering all over 
with lights, like the Oton-tala or Sea of Stars,) informed 
the Princess that it was the usual way, in which the 
friends of those who had gone on dangerous voyages, 



LALLA R00KH. 73 

offered up vows for their safe return. If the lamp sunk 
immediately, the omen was disastrous; but if it went 
shining down the stream, and continued to burn till 
entirely out of sight, the return of the beloved object 
was considered as certain. 

Lalla Rookh, as they moved od, more than once 
looked back, to observe how the yound Hindoo's lamp 
proceeded; and, while she saw with pleasure that it was 
still unextinguished, she could not help fearing that all 
the hopes of this life were no better than that feeble light 
upon the river. The remainder of the journey was pass- 
ed in silence. She now, for the first time, felt that shade 
of melancholy, which comes over the youthful maiden's 
heart, as sweet and transient as her own breath upon a 
mirror; nor was it till she heard the lute of Feramorz, 
touched lightly at the door of her pavilion, that she waked 
from the reverie in which she had been wandering. 
Instantly her eyes were lighted up with pleasure, and, 
after a few unheard remarks from Fadladeen upon the 
indecorum of a poet seating himself in presence of a 
Princess, every thing was arranged as on the preceding- 
evening, and all listened with eagerness, while the story 
was thus continued: 



74 LALLA ROOKH. 



WHOSE are the gilded tents that crowd the way, 

Where all was waste and silent yesterday? 

This City of War which, in a few short hours, 

Hath sprung- up here, as if the magic powers 

Of Him who, in the twinkling- of a star, 

Built the high pillar'd halls of Chilminar,* 

Had conjurd up, far as the eye can see, 

This world of tents and domes and sun-bright armory! 

Princely pavilions, screen'd by many a fold 

Of crimson cloth, and topp'd with balls of gold; 

Steeds, with their housings of rich silver spun, 

Their chains and poitrels glittering in the sun; 

And camels, tufted o'er with Yemen's shells, 

Shaking in every breeze their light-ton'd bells! 

But yester-eve, so motionless around, 
So mute was this wide plain, that not a sound 
But the far torrent, or the locust- birdf 
Hunting among the thickets, could be heard; 

* The edifices of Chilminar and Balbec are supposed to 
have been built by the Genii, acting under the orders of Jan 
ben Jan, who governed the world long before the time of 
Adam. 

•}■ A native of Khorassan, and allured southward by means 
of the water of a fountain between Shiraz and Ispahan, called 
he Fountain of Birds, of which it is so fond that it will follow 
wherever that water is carried. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 75 

Yet hark! what discords now, of every kind, 

Shouts, laug-hs, and screams are revelling" in the wind! 

The neigh of cavalry; the tinkling throngs 

Of laden camels and their drivers' songs; 

Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze 

Of streamers from ten thousand canopies; 

War-music, bursting out from time to time 

With gong and tymbalon's tremendous chime; 

Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are mute 

The mellow breathings of some horn or flute; 

That far off, broken by the eagle note 

Of the Abyssinian trumpet,* swell and float! 

Who leads this mighty army? ask ye " who?" 
And mark ye not those banners of dark hue, 
The Night and Shadow,f over yonder tent? 
It is the Caliph's glorious armament. 
Rous'd in his Palace by the dread alarms, 
That hourly came, of the false Prophet's arms, 
And of his host of infidels, who hurl'd 
Defiance fierce at Islam! and the world; 

* " This trumpet is often called in Abyssinia nesser cano t 
which signifies the Note of the Eagle."— Note of Bruce's 
editor. 

■j" The two black standards borne before the Caliphs of the 
House of Abbas, were called, allegorically, The Night and 
The Shadow.— v. Gibbon. 

$ The Mahometan Religion. 



<76 LALLA ROOKH. 

Though worn with Grecian warfare, and behind 
The veils of his bright Palace calm reclin'd, 
Yet brook'd he not such blasphemy should stain, 
Thus unreveng'd, the evening- of his reign, 
But, having sworn upon the Holy Grave* 
To conquer or to perish, once more gave 
His shadowy banners proudly to the breeze, 
And with an army, nurs'd in victories, 
Here stands to crush the rebels that o'er- run 
His blest and beauteous Province of the Sun. 

Ne'er did the march of Mahadi display 
Such pomp before; — not ev'n when on his way 
To Mecca's Temple, when both land and sea 
Were spoil 'd to feed the Pilgrim's luxury; f 
When round him, mid the burning sands, he saw 
Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw, 
And cool'd his thirsty lip, beneath the glow 
Of Mecca's sun, with urns of Persian snow:} — 
Nor e'er did arm anient more grard than that 
Pour from the kingdoms of the Caliphat. 

* " The Persians swear by the Tomb of Shah Besade, who 
is buried at Casbin; and when one desires another to asseverate 
a matter, he will ask him, if he dare swear by the Holy 
Grave." — Strny. 

j[ Mahadi, in a single pilgrimage to Meca, expended six 
millions of dinars of gold. 

$ Nivera Meccam apportavit, rem ibi aut nunquam aut raro 
visam. — Jlbufelda. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 77 

First in the van, the People of the Rock,* 
On their light mountain steeds, of royal stock; f 
Then, Chieftans of Damascus, proud to see 
The flashing- of their swords' rich marquetry. J 
Men, from the regions near the Volga's mouth, 
Mix'd with the rude, black archers of the South; 
And Indian lancers, in white-turban'd ranks 
From the far Sinde, or Attock's sacred banks, 
With dusky legions from the land of Myrrh, J 
And many a mace-arm'd Moor and Mid- Sea Islander. 

Nor less in number, though more new and rude 
In warfare's school was the vast multitude 
That, fir'd by zeal, or by oppression wrong'd; 
Round the white standard of th' Impostor throng'd. 
Beside his thousands of Believers, blind, 
Burning and headlong as the Samiel wind, 

* The inhabitants of Hejaz, or Arabian Petraea, called by 
an Eastern writer, ** The People of the Rock."— Ebn Hau- 
kal. 

f " Those horses, called by the Arabians Kochlani, of 
whom a written genealogy has been kept for 2000 years. 
They are said to derive their origin from King Solomon's 
steeds." — Niebuhr. 

t u Many of the figures on the blades of their swords 
are wrought in gold or silver, or in marquetry with smal! 
gems. — Asiat. JWisc. vol. i. 

§ Azab or Saba. 

G 2 



78 LALLA ROOKII. 

Many who felt, and more who fear'd to feel 
The bloody Islamite's converting- steel, 
Flock'd to his banner; — Chiefs of the Uzbek race 
Waving their heron crests with martial grace; f 
Turkomans, countless as their flocks, led forth 
From the aromatic pastures of the North; 
Wild warriors of the turquoise hills,| and those 
Who dwell beyond the everlasting 1 snows 
Of Hindoo Kosh,§ in stormy freedom bred, 
Their fort the rock, their camp the torrent's bed. 
But none, of all who own'd the Chief's command. 
Rush'd to that battle-field with bolder hand, 
Or sterner hate than Iran's outlaw'd men, 
Her Worshippers of FirelF — all panting then 
For vengeance on the accursed Saracen; 

f u The chiefs of the Uzbek Tartars wear a plume of 
white heron's feathers in their turbans/' — Account oflnds- 
pendent Tartary. 

$ In the mountains of Nishapour and Tous (in Khorassan) 
they find turquoises. — Ebn Haukal. 

§ For a description of these stupendous ranges of moun- 
tains, v. Elphinstone 9 s Caubul. 

% The Ghebers, or Guebres, those original natives of Per- 
sia, who adhered to their ancient faith, the religion of Zoro- 
aster, and who, after the conquest ©f tbeir country by the 
Arabs, were either persecuted at home, or forced to become 
wanderers abroad. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAN. 79 

Vengeance at last for their dear country spurn'd, 
Her throne usurp'd, and her bright shrines o'erturn'd. 
From Yezd's* eternal Mansion of the Fire, 
Where aged saints in dreams of Heav'n expire; 
From Badku, and those fountains of blue flame 
That burn into the CAspiAN,f fierce they came, 
Careless for what or whom the blow was sped, / 

So vengeance triumph'd, and their tyrants bled! 

Such was the wild and miscellaneous host, 
That high in air their motley banners tost 
Around the Prophet-Chief — all eyes still bent 
Upon that glittering Veil, where'er it went, 
That beacon through the battle's stormy flood, 
That rainbow of the field, whose showers were blood! 

Twice hath the Sun upon their conflict set, 
And ris'n again, and found them grappling yet; 

* u Yezd, the chief residence of those ancient natives, 
who worship the Sun and the Fire, which latter they have 
carefully kept lighted, without being once extinguished for a 
moment, above 3000 years, on a mountain near Yezd, called 
Ater Quedah, signifying the House or Mansion of the Fire, 
He is reckoned very unfortunate who dies off that mountain." 
— Stephen's Persia. 

f •" When the weather is hazy, the springs of Naptha (on 
an island near Baku) boil up the higher, and the Naptha of- 
ten takes fire on the surface of the earth, and runs in a flame 
into the sea to a distance almost incredible.— Han-way on the 
Everlasting Fire at Baku. 



uO LALLA ROOKH 

While steams of carnage, in his noon-tide blaze, 

Smoke up to Heav'n- --hot as that crimson haze, 

By which the prostrate Caravan is aw'd, 

In the red Desert, when the wind's abroad! 

" On, Swords of God!" the panting* Caliph calls, 

" Thrones for the living — Heav'n for him who falls!" 

" On, brave avengers, on," Mokanna cries, 

" And Eblis blast the recreant slave that flies!" 

Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day— 

They clash— -they strive — the Caliph's troops give way! 

Mokanna's self plucks the black banner down, 

And now the Orient World's imperial crown 

Is just within his grasp— when, hark, that shout! 

Some hand hath check'd the flying Moslems' rout, 

And now they turn— they rally — at their head 

A warrior, (like those angel youths, who led, 

In glorious panoply of heav'n's own mail, 

The Champions of the Faith through Beder's vale,)f 

Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives, 

Turns on the fierce pursuers' blades, and drives 

At once the multitudinous torrent back, 

While hope and courage kindle in his track, 

And, at each step, his bloody falchion makes 

Terrible vistas through which victory breaks! 

f In the great victory gained by Mahomet at Beder, he 
■was assisted, say the Mussulmans, by three thousand angels, 
led by Gabriel, mounted on his horse Iiiazum. — v. The Ko* 

ran and its Commentators. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 81 

In vain Mokanna, midst the general flight, 
Stands, like the red moon, on some stormy night, 
Among the fugitive clouds that, hurrying by, 
Leave only her unshaken in the sky! 
In vain he yells his desperate curses out, 
Deals death promiscuously to all about, 
To foes that charge, and coward friends that fly, 
And seems of all the great Arch-enemy! 
The panic spreads—" a miracle!" throughout 
The Moslem ranks, " a miracle!" they shout. 
All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems 
A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams; 
And every sword, true as o'er billows dim 
The needle tracks the load-star, following him! 

Right tow'rds Mokanna now he cleaves his path. 
Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath 
He bears from Heav'n withheld its awful burst 
From weaker heads, and souls but half-way curst, 
To break o'er Him, the mightiest and the worst! 
But vain his speed — though in that hour of blood. 
Had all God's seraphs round Mokanna stood, 
With swords of fire, ready like fate to fall, 
Mokanna's soul would have defied them all; 
Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong 
For human force, hurries ev'n him along: 
In vain he struggles 'mid the wedg'd array 
Of flying thousands, he is borne away; 



82 LALLA ROOKH. 

And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows 
In this forced flight is— murdering* as he goes! 
As a grim tiger, whom the torrent's might 
Surprises in some parch'd ravine at night, 
Turns, ev'n in drowning, on the wretch'd flocks 
Swept with him in that snow-flood from the rocks, 
And, to the last, devouring on his way, 
Bloodies the stream he hath not power to stay! 

" Alia ilia Alia!" — the glad shout renew— 
" Alia Acbar!"*— the Caliph's in Merou. 
Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets, 
And light your shrines and chaunt your ziraleets;f 
The Swords of God have triumphed— on his throne 
Your Caliph sits, and the Veil'd Chief hath flown. 
Who does not envy that young warrior now, 
To whom the Lord of Islam bends his brow, 
In all the graceful gratitude of power, 
For his throne's safety in that perilous hour? 
Who doth not wonder, when amidst th' acclaim 
Of thousands, heralding to heaven his name — 
'Mid all those holier harmonies of fame, 
Which sound along the path of virtuous souls. 
Like music round a planet as it rolls! 

* The Tecbir, or cry of the Arabs. cc Alia Acbar!" says 
Ockley, " means God is most mighty." 

f The ziralet is a kind of chorus, which the women of the 
East sing upon joyful occasions. — Bussel. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 83 

He turns away coldly, as if some gloom 

Hung- o'er his heart no triumphs can illume; 

Some sightless grief, upon whose blasted gaze 

Though glory's light may play, in vain it plays! 

Yes, wretched Azim! thine is such a grief, 

Beyond all hope, all terror, all relief; 

A dark, cold calm, which nothing now can break. 

Or warm or brighten — like that Syrian Lake,* 

Upon whose surface morn and summer shed 

Their smiles in vain, for all beneath is dead! 

Hearts there have been, o'er which this weight of wo 

Came by long use of suffering; tame and slow; 

But thine, lost youth! was sudden-— over thee 

It broke at once, when all seem'd ecstacy; 

When Hope look'd up, and saw the gloomy Past 

Melt into splendour, and Bliss dawn at last — 

'Twas then, ev'n then, o'er joys so freshly blown. 

This mortal blight of misery came down; 

Ev'n then, the full, warm gushings of thy heart 

Were check'd — like fount-drops, frozen as they start! 

And there, like them, cold, sunless relics hang, 

Each fix'd and chilPd into a lasting pang! 

One sole desire, one passion now remains, 
To keep life's fever still within his veins, 

* The Dead Sea, which contains neither animal nor ve- 
getable life. 



84 LALLA ROOKH. 

Vengeance! — dire vengeance on the wretch, who cast 

O'er him and all he lov'd that ruinous blast. 

For this, when rumours reach' d him in his flight 

Far, far away, after that fatal night, 

Rumours of armies, thronging to the attack 

Of the Veil'd Chief, — for this he wing'd him back, 

Fleet as the vulture speeds to flags unfurl'd, 

And came when all seem'd lost, and wildly hurl'd 

Himself into the scale, and sav'd a world! 

For this he still lives on, careless of all 

The wreaths that glory on his path lets fall; 

For this alone exists — like lightning-fire 

To speed one bolt of vengeance, and expire! 

But safe as yet that Spirit of Evil lives; 
With a small band of desperate fugitives, 
The last sole stubborn fragment, left unriven, 
Of the proud host, that late stood fronting heaven, 
He gain'd Merou — breath'd a short curse of blood 
O'er his lost throne — then pass'd the Jihon's flood,* 
And gathering all, whose madness of belief 
Still saw a Saviour in their down-fall'n Chief, 
Rais'd the white banner within Neksheb's gates,f 
And there, untam'd, th' approaching conqueror waits. 

Of all his Haram, all that busy hive, 
With music and with sweets sparkling alive, 

* The ancient Oxus. f A city of Transoxiana 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 85 

He took but one, the partner of his flight, 

One, not for love — not for her beauty's light- 

For Zelica stood withering midst the gay, 

Wan as the blossom that fell yesterday 

From th' Alma tree and dies, while overhead 

To-day's young flower is springing in its stead! * 

No, not for love — the deepest Damn'd must be 

Touch'd with heaven's glory, ere such fiends as he 

Can feel one glimpse of love's divinity! 

But no, she is his victim; — there lie all 

Her charms for him — charms that can never pall, 

As long as hell within his heart can stir, 

Or one faint trace of heaven is left in her. 

To work an angel's ruin, — to behold 

As white a page as Virtue e'er unroll'd 

Blacken beneath his touch, into a scroll 

Of damning sins, seal'd with a burning soul— 

This is his triumph; this the joy accurst, 

That ranks him among demons all but first! 

This gives the victim, that before him lies 

Blighted and lost, a glory in his eyes, 

A light like that with which hell-fire illumes 

The ghastly, writhing wretch whom it consumes! 

* " You never can cast your eye9 on this tree, but you 
meet there either blossoms or fruit; and as the blossom drops 
underneath on the ground, (which is frequently covered with 
these purple -coloured flowers) others come forth in their 
stead, 3 ' &c, hG—Nieuhoff, 

H 



§6 jLALLA rookh. 

But other tasks now wait him — tasks that need 
All the deep daringness of thought and deed 
With which the Dives* have gifted him — for mark, 
Over yon plains, which night had else made dark. 
Those lanterns, countless as the winged lights 
That spangle India's fields on showry nights,f— 
Far as their formidable gleams they shed, 
The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread. 
Glimmering along the horizon's dusky line, 
And thence in nearer circles, till they shine 
Among the founts and groves, o'er which the town 
In all it's arm'd magnificence looks down. 
Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements 
Mokanna views that multitude of tents; 
Nay, smiles to think that, though entoil'd, beset, 
Not less than myriads dare to front him yet; — 
That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at bay. 
Ev'n thus a match for myriads such as they! 
" Oh! for a sweep of that dark Angel's wing, 
" Who brush'd the thousands of th' Assyrian King! 
ic To darkness in a moment, that I might 
u People Hell's chambers with yon host to night!—- 
u But come what may, let who will grasp the throne, 
" Caliph or Prophet, Man alike shall groan; 

* The Demons of the Persian mythology. 

f Carreri mentions the fire-flies in India during the rainy 
season. — v. his Travels. 

t Sennacherib, called by the orientals King of Mouswl.— • 
ftHerbehU 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN* 87 

" Let who will torture him, Priest — Caliph — King — 

" Alike this loathsome world of his shall ring 

" With victims' shrieks and howlings of the slave, — 

" Sounds that shall glad me ev'n within my grave!" 

Thus to himself— but to the scanty train 

Still left around him, a far different strain: — 

" Glorious defenders of the sacred Crown 

" I bear from heav'n, whose light nor blood shall drown 

" Nor shadow of earth eclipse; — before whose gems 

" The paly pomp of this world's diadems, 

" The crown of Gerashid, the pillar'd Throne 

" Of Parviz*, and the heron crest that shone,f 

* Magnificent, o'er Ali's beauteous eyes,J 

" Fade like the stars when morn is in the skies: 

H Warriors, rejoice — the port, to which we've pass'd 

" O'er destiny's dark wave, beams out at last! 

" Victory's our own— 'tis written in that Book, 

" Upon whose leaves none but the angels look, 

" That Islam's sceptre shall beneath the power 

" Of her great foe fall broken in that hour, 

* Chosroes. For the description of his Throne or Palace, 
v. Gibbon and D'Herbelot. 

f " The crown of Gerashid is cloudy and tarnished before 
the heron tuft of thy turban." — From one of the elegies or 
songs in praise of AH, written in characters of gold round the 
gallery of Abbas's tomb. — v. Chardin. 

+ The beauty of Ali's ejes was so remarkable, that when- 
ever the Persians would describe any thing as very lovely, 
they say it is Ayn Hali, or the Eyes of Ali. — Chardin. 



88 & ALL- A ROOKH. 

" When the moon's mighty orb, before all eyes, 

" Prom Neksheb's Holy Well portentously shall rise! 

" Now turn and see!" 

They turn'd, and, as he spoke, 
A sudden splendour all around them broke, 
And they beheld an orb, ample and bright, 
Rise from the Holy Well, and cast its light 
Round the rich city and the plain for miles,* — 
Flinging such radiance o'er the gilded tiles 
Of many a dome and fair roof 'd imaret, 
As autumn suns shed round them when they set! 
Instant from all who saw th' illusive sign 
A murmur broke — " Miraculous! divine!" 
The Gheber bow'd, thinking his idol Star 
Had wak'd, and burst impatient through the bar 
Of midnight, to inflame him to the war! 
While he of Moussa's creed saw, in that ray, 
The glorious Light which, in his freedom's day, 
Had rested on the Arkf , and now again 
Shone out to bless the breaking of his chain! 

* II amusa pendant deux raois le peuple de la ville de Nekh- 
schcb en faisant sortir toutes les nuits du fonds d'un puits un 
corps lumineux serablable a la Lune, qui portoit sa lumiere 
jusqu' a la distance de plusieurs milles n — D 9 Herbelot. Hence 
he was called Sazench mah, or the Moon -maker. 

f The Shechinah, called Sakinat in the Koran. — v. Sale*9 
JYote, chap. ii. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 89 

a To victory!" is at once the cry of all — 
Nor stands Mokkanna loitering at that call, 
But instant the huge gates are flung aside. 
And forth, like a diminutive mountain-tide 
Into the boundless sea, they speed their course 
Right on into the Moslem's mighty force. 
The watchmen of the camp, — who, in their rounds, 
Had paus'd and ev'n forgot the punctual sounds 
Of the small drum with which they count the night,* 
To gaze upon that supernatural light, — 
Now sink beneath an unexpected arm, 
And in a death-groan give their last alarm. 
" On for the lamps, that light yon lofty screen, f 
" Nor blunt your blades with massacre so mean; 
" There rests the Caliph — speed — one lucky lance 
" May now achieve mankind's deliverance! 5 ' 
Desperate the die— such as they only cast, 
Who venture for a world, and stake their last. 
But Fate's no longer with him— blade for blade 
Springs up to meet them through the glimmering shade, 

* The parts of the night are made known as well by in- 
struments of music, as by the rounds of the watchmen with 
<jries and small drums. — v. Burdens Oriental Customs, vol. 
i. p. 119. 

•{- The Serrapurda, high screens of red cloth, stiffened with 
eane, used to inclose a considerable space round the royal 
tents. — Notes on the Bahardanuslu 
H 2 



90 LALLA IIOOKH. 

And, as the clash is heard, nevv legions soon 
Pour to the spot, like bees of Kauzeroon,| 
To the shrill timbrel's summons till at length, 
The mighty camp swarms out in all its strength, 
And back to Neksheb's gates, covering the plain 
With random slaughter, drives the adventurous train, 
Among the last of whom, the Silver Veil 
Is seen glittering at times, like the white sail 
Of some toss'd vessel, on a stormy night, 
Catching the tempest's momentary light! 

And hath not this brought the proud spirit low? 
Nor dash'd his brow, nor check'd his daring? No. 
Though half the wretches, whom at night he led 
To thrones and victory, lie disgrac'd and dead, 
Yet morning hears him, with unshrinking crest, 
Still vaunt of thrones, and victory to the rest;— 
And they believe him! — oh, the lover may 
Distrust that look which steals his soul away; — 
The babe may cease to think that it can play 
With heaven's rainbow; alchymists may doubt 
The shining gold their crucible gives out, 
But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast 
To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. 

And well the Impostor knew all lures and arts, 
That Lucifer e'er taught to tangle hearts; 

■j" " From the groves of orange trees at Kauzeroon the 
bees cull a celebrated honey." — Moneys Travels. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHOItASSAN. 91 

Nor, mid these last, bold workings of his plot 

Against men's souls, is Zelica forgot. 

Ill-fated Zelica! had reason been 

Awake, through half the horrors thou hast seen, 

Thou never couldst have borne it — Death had come 

At once, and taken thy wrung spirit home. 

But 'twas not so — a torpor, a suspense 

Of thought, almost of life, came o'er the intense 

And passionate struggles of that fearful night, • 

When her last hope of peace and heav'n took flight 

And though, at times, a gleam of frenzy broke, — 

As through some dull volcano's veil of smoke 

Ominous flashings now and then will start, 

Which show the fire's still busy at its heart; 

Yet was she mostly wrapp'd in sullen gloom, — 

Not such as Azim's, brooding o'er its doom, 

And calm without, as is the brow of death, 

While busy worms are gnawing underneath! — 

But in a blank and pulseless torpor, free 

From thought or pain, a seal'd up apathy, 

Which left her oft, with scarce one living thrill, 

The cold, pale victim of her torturer's will. 

Again, as in Merou, he had her deck'd 
Gorgeously out, the Priestess of the sect; 
And led her glittering forth before the eyes 
Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice; 
Pallid as she, the young, devoted Bride 






92 LALLA ROOKH. 

Of the fierce Nile, when deck'd in all the pride 

Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his tide!* 

And while the wretched maid hung down her head, 

And stood, as one just risen from the dead, 

Amid that gazing- crowd, the fiend would tell 

His credulous slaves it was some charm or spell 

Possess'd her now, — and from that darken'd trance 

Should dawn ere long their Faith's deliverance. 

Or if, at times, goaded by guilty shame, 

Her soul was rous'd, and words of wildness came, 

Instant the bold blasphemer would translate 

Her ravings into oracles of fate, 

Would hail heav'n's signals in her flashing eyes. 

And call her shrieks the language of the skies! 

But vain at length his arts — despair is seen 
Gathering around; and famine comes to glean 
All that the sword had left unreap'd: in vain 
At morn and eve across the northern plain 
He looks impatient for the promis'd spears 
Of the wild Hordes and Tartar mountaineers; 
They come not — while his fierce beleaguerejs pour 
Engines of havoc in, unknown before, 



* * c A custom still subsisting at this day, seems to me to 
prove that the Egyptians formerly sacrificed a young virgin 
to the God of the Nile; for they now make a statue of earth 
in shape of a girl, to which they give the name of the Betroth- 
ed Bride, and throw it into the river " Savary, 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAK. 93 

And horrible as new;* javelins, that fly 

Enwreath'd with smoky flames through the dark sky, 

And red-hot globes that, opening as they mount, 

©ischarge, as from a kindled Naptha fount, 

Showers of consuming fire o'er all below; 

Looking, as through the illumin'd night they go, 

Like those wild birdsf that by the Magians oft, 

At festivals of fire, were sent aloft 

Into the air, with blazing faggots tied 

To their huge wings, scattering combustion wide! 

All night, the groans of wretches who expire, 

In agony, beneath these darts of fire; 

Ring through the city — while, descending o'er 

Its shrines and domes and streets of sycamore; 

Its lone bazars, with their bright cloths of gold, 

Since the last peaceful pageant left unrolPd; 

• The Greek fire, which was occasionally lent by the Em- 
perors to their allies. n It was," says Gibbon, " either 
lanched. in red-hot balls of stone and iron, or darted in 
arrows and javelins, twisted round with flax and tow, which 
had deeply imbibed the inflammable oil." 

" f At the great festival of fire, called the Sheb Seze, 
they used to set fire to large hunches of dry combustibles, 
fastened round wild beasts and birds, which being then let 
loose, the air and earth appeared one great illumination; and 
as these terrified creatures naturally fled to the wood for 
shelter, it is easy to conceive the conflagrations they produc- 
ed." Bichardson's Dissertation. 



94 LALLA ROOKH. 

Its beauteous marble baths, whose idle jets 
Now gush with blood, and its tall minarets, 
That late have stood up in the evening glare 
Of the red sun, unhallow'd by a prayer; 
O'er each, in turn, the terrible flame-bolts fall, 
And death and conflagration throughout all 
The desolate city hold high festival! 

Mokanna sees the world is his no more; 
One sting at parting, and his grasp is o'er. 
" What! drooping now?" thus, with unblushing cheek, 
He hails the few, who yet can hear him speak, 
Of all those famished slaves, around him lying, 
And by the light of blazing temples dying; 
" What, drooping now? now, when at length we press 
" Home o'er the very threshold of success; 
" When Alla from our ranks hath thinn'd away 
" Those grosser branches, that kept out his ray 
" Of favour from us, and we stand at length 
" Heirs of his light and children of his strength, 
" The chosen few, who shall survive the fall 
" Of Kings and Thrones, triumphant over all! 
" Have you then lost, weak murmurers as you are, 
" All faith in him, who was your Light, your Star? 
" Have you forgot the eye of glory, hid, 
" Beneath this Veil, the flashing of whose lid 
* ' Could, like a sun-stroke of the desert, wither 
" Millions of such as yonder Chief brings hither? 



THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAN. 95 

" Long have its lightnings slept — too long — but now 

" All earth shall feel the unveiling of this brow! 

" To-night — yes, sainted men! this very night, 

" I bid you all to a fair festal rite, 

" Where, having deep refresh'd each weary limb 

" With viands, such as feast Heav'n's cherubim, 

" And kindled up your souls, now sunk and dim, 

" With that pure wine the Dark-ey'd Maids above 

" Keep, seal'd with precious musk, for those they love,* 

11 1 will myself uncurtain in your sight 

" The wonders of this brow's ineffable light; 

11 Then lead you forth, and with a wink disperse 

" Yon myriads, howling through the universe!" 

Eager they listen — while each accent darts 
New life into their chill'd and hope-sick hearts; 
Such treacherous life as the cool draught supplies 
To him upon the stake, who drinks and dies! 
Wildly they point their laaces to the light 
Of the fast sinking sun, and shout " to-night! v 
" To-night" their Chief re-echoes, in a voice 
Of fiend-like mockery that bids hell rejoice! 
Deluded victims — never hath this earth 
Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth! 

* " The righteous shall be given to drink of pure wine, 
sealed; the seal whereof shall be musk." Koran, chap. 
Ixxxiii. 



96 LALLA ROOKH. 

Here, to the few, whose iron frames had stood 
This racking waste of famine and of blood, 
Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the shout 
Of triumph like a maniac's laugh broke out; 
There, others, lighted by the smouldering fire, 
Danc'd, like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre, 
Among the dead and dying, strew'd around; 
While some pale wretch look'd on, and from his wound 
Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled, 
In ghastly transport wav'd it o'er his head! 

'Twas more than midnight now — a fearful pause 
Had folio w'd the long shouts, the wild applause, 
That lately from those Royal gardens burst, 
Where the Veil'd demon held his feast accurst. 
When Zelica — alas, poor ruin'd heart, 
In every horror doom'd to bear its part! 
Was bidden to the banquet by a slave, 
Who, while his quivering lip the summons gave. 
Grew black, as though the shadows of the grave 
Compass'd him round, and, ere he could repeat 
His message through, fell lifeless at her feet! 
Shuddering she went — a soul-felt pang of fear, 
A presage, that her own dark doom was near, 
Rous'd every feeling, and brought Reason back 
Once more, to writhe her last upon the rack. 
All round seem'd tranquil — ev'n the foe had ceas'd. 
As if aware of that demoniac feast, 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 97 

His fiery bolts; and though the heavens look'd red, 

'Twas but some distant conflagration's spread. 

But hark! she stops — she listens — dreadful tone! 

'Tis her Tormentor's laugh — and now, a groan 

A long death-groan comes with it — can this be 

The place of mirth, the bower of revelry? 

She enters — Holy Alla, what a sight 

Was there before her! By the glimmering light 

Of the pale dawn, mix'd with the flare of brands 

That round lay burning, dropp'd from lifeless hands, 

She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread, 

Rich censers breathing, — garlands overhead, — 

The urns, the cups, from which they late had quaff'd, 

All gold and gems, but — what had been the draught? 

Oh! who need ask, that saw those livid guests, 

With their swoll'n heads sung blackening* on their 

breasts, 
Or looking pale to heav'n with glassy glare, 
As if they sought but saw no mercy there; 
As if they felt, though poison rack'd them through, 
Remorse the deadlier torment of the two! 
While some, the bravest, hardiest in the train 
Of their false Chief, who on the battle-plain 
Would have met death with transport by his side, 
Here mute and helpless gasp'd; but, as they died, 
Look'd horrible vengeance with their eyes' last strain. 
And clench'd the slackening hand at him in vain. 



98 LALLA ROOKH. 






Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare. 
The stony look of horror and despair, 
Which some of these expiring" victims cast 
Upon their souls' tormentor to the last; 
Upon that mocking" Fiend, whose Veil, now rais'd, 
Show'd them, as in death's agony they gaz'd, 
Not the long promis'd light, the hrow, whose beaming 
Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming, 
But features horribler than Hell e'er trac'd 
On its own brood; no Demon of the Waste*, 
No church-yard Ghole, caught lingering in the light 
Of the bless'd sun, e'er blasted human sight 
With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those 
Th 5 Impostor now, in grinning mockery shows— 
" There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your Star,— 
" Ye would be dupes and victims, and ye are. 
u Is it enough? or must I, while a thrill 
" Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still? 
" Swear that the burning death ye feel within, 
" Is but the trance, with which heav'n's joys begin; 
6i That this foul visage, foul as e'er disgrac'd 
" Ev'n monstrous man, is— after God's own taste; 

* The Afghauns believe each of the numerous solitudes 
and deserts of their country, t6 be inhabited by a lonely 
demon, whom they call the Ghoolee Beeabau, or Spirit of 
the Waste. They often illustrate the wildness of any se- 
questered tribe, by saying, they are wild as the Demon of the 
Waste." — Elphinstone's CaubaL 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 99 

" And that — but see! ere I have half-way said 

« My greetings through, th' uncourteous souls are fled. 

" Farewell, sweet spirits! not in vain ye die, 

" If Eblis loves you half so well as I. 

" Ha, my young bride! 'tis well — take thou thy seat; 

" Nay, come — no shuddering — did'st thou never meet 

" The Dead before? they grac'd our wedding, sweet; 

" And these, my guests to-night, have brimm'd so true 

11 Their parting cups that thou shalt pledge one too. 

" But — how is this? all empty? all drunk up? 

" Hot lips have been before thee in the cup, 

" Young bride, — yet stay — one precious drop remains, 

" Enough to warm a gentle Priestess' veins; 

" Here, drink — and should thy lover's conquering arms 

" Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, 

" Give him but half this venom in thy kiss, 

P And I'll forgive my haughty rival's bliss! 

" For me — I too must die — but not like these 
" Vile, rankling things, to fester in the breeze; 
" To have this brow in ruffian triumph shown, 
" With all death's grimness added to its own, 
" And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes 
" Of slaves, exclaiming < There his Godship lies!' 
" No — cursed race — since first my soul drew breath, 
" They've been my dupes, and shall be, ev'n in death. 
" Thou see'st yon cistern in the shade — 'tis filPd 
" With burning drugs, for this last hour distill'd; 
" There will I plunge me, in that liquid flame — 
" Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's frame! 



100 LALLA R00KH. 

" There perish, all — ere pulse of thine shall fail — 

" Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale. 

" So shall my votaries, wheresoe'er they rave, 

" Proclaim that Heav'n took back the Saint it gave; 

" That I've but vanish'd from this earth awhile, 

" To come again, with bright, unshrouded smile! 

" So shall they build me altars in their zeal, 

" Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel* 

" Where Faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell, 

" Written in blood — and Bigotry may swell 

" The sail he spreads for heav'n with blasts from hell! 

" So shall my banner, through long ages, be 

" The rallying sign of fraud and anarchy; 

" Kings yet unborn shall rue Mokanna's name, 

" And, though I die, my Spirit, still the same, 

" Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife, 

" And guilt, and blood, that were its bliss in life! 

" But, hark! their battering engine shakes the wall — 

" Why, let it shake — thus I can brave them all. 

" No trace of me shall greet them, when they come, 

" And I can trust thy faith, for — thou'lt be dumb. 

" Now, mark how readily a wretch like me, 

" In one bold plunge commences Deity!" 

He sprung and sunk, as the last words were said — 
Quick clos'd the burning waters o'er his head, 
And Zelica was left — within the ring 
Of those wide walls the only living thing; 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 101 

The only wretched one, still curs'd with breath, 

In all that frightful wilderness of death! 

More like some bloodless ghost, — such as, they tell, 

In the lone Cities of the Silent* dwell, 

And there, unseen of all but Alla, sit 

Each by its own pale carcass, watching it. 

But morn is up, and a fresh warfare stirs 
Throughout the camp of the beleaguerers. 
Their globes of fire, (the dread artillery, lent 
By Greece to conquering Mahadi,) are spent; 
And now the scorpion's shaft, the quarry sent 
From high balistas, and the shielded throng 
Of soldiers-, swinging the huge ram along, 
All speak th' impatient Islamite's intent 
To try, at length, if tower and battlement 
And bastion'd wall be not less hard to win, 
Less tough to break down than the hearts within. 
First in impatience and in toil is he, 
The burning Azim — oh! could he but see 
That monster once alive within his grasp, 
Not the gaunt lion's hug, nor boa's clasp 

* " They have all a great reverence for burial-grounds, 
which they sometimes call by the poetical name of Cities of 
the Silent, and which they people with the ghosts of the de- 
parted, who sit each at the head of his own grave, invisible to 
mortal eyes." — Elphinstone. 

I 2 



102 LALLA ROOKH. 

Could match that gripe of vengeance, or keep pace 
With the fell heartiness of Hate's embrace! 
Loud rings the ponderous ram against the walls; 
Now shake the ramparts, now a buttress falls, 
But still no breach — " once more, one mighty swing 
" Of all your beams, together thundering!" 
There — the wall shakes — the shouting troops exult — 
" Quick, quick discharge your weightiest catapult 
" Right on that spot, and Neksheb is our own!" 
'Tis done — the battlements come crashing down, 
And the huge wall, by that stroke riv'n in two, 
Yawning", like some old crater, rent anew, 
Shows the dim, desolate city smoking through! 
But strange! no signs of life — nought living seen 
Above, below — what can this stillness mean? 
A minute's pause suspends all hearts and eyes — 
" In through the breach" impetuous Azim cries; 
But the cool Caliph, fearful of some wile 
In this blank stillness, checks the troops awhile. 
Just then, a figure, with slow step, advanc'd 
Forth from the ruin'd walls; and, as there glanc'd 
A sunbeam over it, all eyes could see 
The well-known Silver Veil! « 'Tis He, 'tis He, 
" Mokanna, and alone!" they shout around; 
Young Azim from his steed springs to the ground — 
" Mine, Holy Caliph! mine," he cries, " the task 
4£ To crush yon daring wretch — 'tis all I ask." 
Eager he darts to meet the demon foe, 
Who still across wide heaps of ruin slow 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 103 

And falteringly comes, till they are near; 
Then, with a bound, rushes on Azim's spear, 
And, casting off the Veil in falling, shows — 
Oh! 'tis his Zelica's life-blood that flows! 

" I meant not, Azim," soothingly she said, 
As on his trembling arm she lean d her head, 
And, looking in his face, saw anguish there 
Beyond all wounds the quivering flesh can bear — 
" I meant not thou should'st have the pain of this; 
" Though death, with thee thus tasted, is a bliss 
" Thou would'st not rob me of, did'st thou but know 
" How oft I've pray'd to God I might die so! 
" But the Fiend's yenom was too scant and slow; 
u To linger on were maddening — and I thought 
" If once that Veil — nay, look not on it — caught 
" The eyes of your fierce soldiery, I should be 
" Struck by a thousand death-darts instantly. 
" But this is sweeter — oh! believe me, yes — 
" I would not change this sad, but dear caress, 
" This death within thy arms I would not give 
" For the most smiling life the happiest live! 
u All, that stood dark and drear before the eye 
" Of my stray'd soul, is passing swiftly by; 
" A light comes o'er me from those looks of love, 
* c Like the first dawn of mercy from above; 
iC And if thy lips but tell me I'm forgiven, 
" Angels will echo the blest words in heaven! 
" But live, my Azim; — oh! to call thee mine 
;i Thus once again! — my Azim — dream divine! 



104 LALLA ROOKH. 

" Live, if thou ever lovd'st me, if to meet 
" Thy Zelica hereafter would be sweet, 
" Oh live to pray for her — to bend the knee 
" Morning and night before that Deity, 
cc To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain, 
cc As thine are, Azim, never breath'd in vain, 
" And pray that He may pardon her, may take 
" Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake, 
u And, nought remembering but her love to thee, 
" Make her all thine, all His, eternally! 
" Go to those happy fields where first we twin'd 
" Our youthful hearts together — every wind 
" That meets thee there, fresh from the well-known flow- 
ers, 
" Will bring the sweetness of those innocent hours 
" Back to thy soul, and thou may'st feel again 
" For thy poor Zelica as thou did'st then. 
" So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies 
" To heaven upon the morning's sunshine, rise 
" With all love's earliest ardour to the skies! 
" And should they — but alas! my senses fail — 
" Oh for one mmute! — sLould thy prayers prevail — 
" If pardonM souls may from that world of bliss 
" Reveal their joys to those they love in this, 
" I'll come to thee, in some sweet dream, and tell — 
" Oh Heaven — I die — dear love! farewell, farewell." 

Time fleeted; years on years had pass'd away, 
And few of those who, on that mournful day, 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 105 

Had stood with pity in their eyes to see 

The maiden's death, and the youth's agony, 

Were living* still — when by a rustic grave 

Beside the swift Araoo's transparent wave, 

An aged man, who had grown aged there 

By that lone grave, morning and night in prayer, 

For the last time knelt down — and, though the shade 

Of death hung darkening over him, there play'd 

A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek, 

That brighten'd even death — like the last streak 

Of intense glory onth' horizon's brim, 

When night o'er all the rest hangs chill and dim, 

His soul had seen a vision, while he slept; 

She for whose spirit he had pray'd and wept 

So many years, had come to him, all drest 

In angel smiles, and told him she was blest! 

For this the old man breath'd his thanks and died. 

And there, upon the banks of that lov'd tide, 

He and his Zelica sleep side by side. 



106 LALLA ROOKH. 



1 HE story of the veiled prophet of Khorassan being 
ended, they were now doomed to hear Fadladeen's 
criticisms upon it. A series of disappointments and ac- 
cidents had occurred to this learned Chamberlain during 
the journey. In the first place those couriers stationed, 
as in the reign of Shah Jehan, betrecn Delhi and the 
western coast of India, to secure a constant supply 
of mangoes for the royal table, had, by some cruel irre- 
gularity, failed in their duty; and to eat any mangoes but 
those of Mazagong was, of course, impossible. In the 
next place the elephant, laden with his fine antique por- 
celain, had in an unusual fit of liveliness shattered the 
whole set to pieces: — an irreparable loss, as many of the 
vessels were so exquisitely old as to have been used un- 
der the emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned many ages 
before the dynasty of Tang. His Koran too, supposed 
to be the identical copy between the leaves of which Ma- 
homet's favourite pigeon used to nestle, had been mis- 
laid by his Koran-bearer three whole days; not without 
much spiritual alarm to Fadladeen, who, though pro- 
fessing to hold, with other loyal and orthodox Mussul- 
mans, that salvation could only be found in the Koran, 
was strongly suspected of believing in his heart, that it 
could only be found in his own particular copy of it. 
When to all these grievances is added the obstinacy of 
the cooks , in putting the pepper of Canara into his dish- 
es, instead of the cinnamon of Serendib, we may easily 



LALLA ROOKH. 107 

suppose that he came to the task of criticism with, at 
least, a sufficient degree of irritability for the purpose. 

In order (said he importantly swinging 1 about his 
chaplet of pearls) to convey with clearness my opinion 
of the story this young man has related, it is necessary 

to take a review of all the stories that have ever 

" My good Fadladeen! (exclaimed the princess, inter- 
rupting him) we really do not deserve that you should 
give yourself so much trouble. Your opinion of the po- 
em we have just heard will, I have no doubt, be abun- 
dantly edifying, without any further waste of your valu- 
able erudition." " If that be all (replied the critic, evi- 
dently mortified at not being allowed to show how much 
he knew about every thing but the subject immediately 
before him;) if that be all that is required, the matter is 
easily despatched." He then proceeded to analyze the 
poem in that strain so well known to the unfortunate 
bards of Delhi, whose censures were an infliction from 
which few recovered, and whose very praises were like 
the honey extracted from the bitter flowers of the aloe. 
The chief personages of the story were, if he rightly un- 
derstood them, an ill-favoured gentleman, with a veil 
over his face; a young lady whose reason went and came 
according as it suited the poet's convenience to be sensi- 
ble or otherwise; and a youth in one of those hideous Bu- 
charian bonnets, who took the aforesaid gentleman in a 
veil for a divinity. " From such materials (said he) 
what can be expected? After rivalling each other in 



108 LALLA ROOKH. 

long* speeches and absurdities., through some thousands 
of lines as indigestible as the filberds of Berdaa, our 
friend in the veil jumps into a tub of aqua-fortis; the 
young lady dies in a set speech, whose only recommen- 
dation is that it is her last; and the lover lives on to a 
good old age, for the laudable purpose of seeing her ghost, 
which he at last happily accomplishes and expires. This, 
you will allow, is a fair summary of the story; and if Nas- 
ser, the Arabian merchant, told no better, our Holy Pro- 
phet (to whom be all honour and glory) had no need to 
be jealous of his abilities for story- telling."* 

With respect to the style, it was worthy of the mat- 
ter; it had not even those politic contrivances of struc- 
ture, which make up for the commonness of the thoughts 
by the peculiarity of the manner, nor that stately poeti- 
cal phraseology by which sentiments mean in themselves, 
like the blacksmith'sf apron converted into a banner, are 
so easily gilt and embroidered into consequence. Then, 
as to the versification, it was, to say no worse of it, exe- 

• mPtecture de ces fables plaisoit si fort aux Arabes, que, 
quand Mahomet les entretenoit de l'Histoire de l'Ancien 
Testament, ils les meprisoient, lui disant que celles que Nas- 
ser leur racontoient etoient beaucoup plus belles. Cette pre- 
ference attira k Nasser la malediction de Mahomet et de 
tous ses disciples.— D'Herbelot. 

f The blacksmith Gao, who successfully resisted the ty- 
rant Zohak, and whose apron became the royal standard of 
Persia. 



LALLA ROOKH. 109 

crable: it had neither the copious flow of Ferdosi, the 
sweetness of Hafez, nor the sententious march of Sadi; 
but appeared to him, in the uneasy heaviness of its move- 
ments, to have been modelled upon the gait of a very 
tired dromedary. The licences too in which it indulged 
were unpardonable; for instance this line, and the poem 
abounded with such; — 

Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream. 

" What critic that can count, 1 ' said Fadladeen, " and 
has his full complement of fingers to count withal, would 
tolerate for an instant such syllabic superfluities?" He 
here looked round and discovered that most of his audi- 
ence were asleep; while the glimmering lamps seemed 
inclined to follow their example. It became necessary, 
therefore, however painful to himself, to put an end to 
his valuable animadversions for the present, and he ac- 
cordingly concluded, with an air of dignified candour, 
thus; — " notwithstanding the observations which I Jiave 
thought it my duty to make, it is by no means my wish to 
discourage the young man: — so far from it, indeed, that 
if he will but totally alter his style of writing and think- 
ing, I have very little doubt that I shall be vastly pleased 
with him." 

Some days elapsed, after this harangue of the Great 
Chamberlain, before Lalla Rookh could venture to ask 
for another story. The youth was still a welcome guest 
in the pavilion; to one heart, perhaps, too dangerously 

K 



110 LALLA ROOKH. 

welcome — but all mention of poetry was, as if by com- 
mon consent, avoided. Though none of the party had 
much respect for Fadladeen, yet his censures, thus 
magisterially delivered, evidently made an impression on 
them all. The Poet himself, to whom criticism was quite 
a new operation, (being wholly unknown in that Para- 
dise of the Indies, Cashmere,) felt the shock as it is gene- 
rally felt at first, till use has made it more tolerable to the 
patient; the ladies began to suspect that they ought not 
to be pleased, and seemed to conclude that there must 
have been much good sense in what Fadladeen said, 
from its having set them all so soundly to sleep; while the 
self-complacent Chamberlain was left to triumph in the 
idea of having, for the hundred and fiftieth time in his 
life, extinguished a Poet. Lalla Rookh alone — and 
Love knew why — persisted in being delighted with all 
she had heard, and in resolving to hear more as speedily 
as possible. Her manner, however, of first returning to 
the subject was unlucky. It was while they rested du- 
ring the heat of noon near a fountain, on which some 
hand had rudely traced those well-known words from the 
Garden of Sadi, " Many, like me, have viewed this 
fountain, but they are gone, and their eyes are closed 
for ever!" that she took occasion, from the melancholy 
beauty of this passage, to dwell upon the charms of poe- 
try in general. M It is true, (she said,) few poets can imi- 
tate that sublime bird, which flies always in the air. 
and never touches the earth:* it is only once in many 

* The Huma. 



LALLA ROOKH. Ill 

ages a Genius appears, whose words, like those on the 
Written Mountain, last forever: but still there are some, 
as delightful perhaps though not so wonderful, who, if 
not stars over our head, are at least flowers along our 
path, and whose sweetness of the moment we ought grate- 
fully to inhale, without calling upon them for a bright- 
ness and a durability beyond their nature. In short, (con- 
tinued she, blushing, as if conscious of being caught in 
an oration,) it is quite cruel that a poet cannot wander 
through his regions of enchantment,, without having a 
critic for ever, like the old Man of the Sea, upon his 
back!"f Fadladeen, it was plain, took this last luck- 
less allusion to himself, and would treasure it up in his 
mind as a whetstone for his next criticism. A sudden 
silence ensued; and the Princess, glancing a look at Fe- 
ramorz, saw plainly she must wait for a more courageous 
moment. 

But the glories of Nature and her wild, fragrant airs, 
playing freshly over the current of youthful spirits, will 
soon heal even deeper wounds than the dull Fadladeens 
of this world can inflict. In an evening or two after, they 
came to the small Valley of Gardens,which had been plan- 
ted by order of the Emperor for his favourite sister Ro- 
chinara, during their progress to Cashmere some years be- 
fore; and never was there a more sparkling assemblage 
of sweets, since the Gulzar-e-Irem, or Rose-bower of 

t The Story of Sinbad. 



112 LALLA ROOKH. 

Irem. Every precious flower was there to be found, that 
poetry, or love, or religion has ever consecrated; from 
the dark hyacinth, to which Hafez compares his mistress's 
hair, to the Camalata, by whose rosy blossoms the heaven 
of Indra is scented. As they sat in the cool fragrance of 
this delicious spot, and Lalla Rookh remarked that she 
could fancy it the abode of that flower-loving Nymph 
whom they worship in the temples of Kathay, or of one 
of those Peris, those beautiful creatures of the air, who 
live upon perfumes, and to whom a place like this might 
make some amends for the Paradise they have lost, — 
the young Poet, in whose eyes she appeared, while she 
spoke, to be one of the bright spiritual creatures she 
was describing, said hesitatingly that he remembered a 
Story of a Peri, which, if the Princess had no objection, 
he would venture to relate. " It is, (said he, with an ap- 
pealing look to Fadladeen,) in a lighter and humbler 
strain than the other;" then striking a few careless but 
melancholy chords on his kitar, he thus began:— 



Paradise and the Peri. 



ONE morn a Peri at the gate 
Of Eden stood, disconsolate; 
And as she listen'd to the Spring's 

Of Life within, like music flowing; 
And caught the light upon her wings 

Through the half- open portal glowing, 
She wept to think her recreant race 
Should e'er have lost that glorious place! 



How happy," exclaim'd this child of air, 
Are the holy Spirits who wander there, 
M Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall; 
Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea. 
And the stars themselves have flowers for me, 
" One blossom of Heaven out-blooms them all! 
K 2 



114 LALLA ROOKH. 

u Though sunny the Lake of cool Cashmere, 
" With its plane-tree Isle reflected clear,* 

" And sweetly the founts of that Valley fall; 
" Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-hay, 
" And the golden floods that thitherward stray,f 
" Yet — oh, 'tis only the Blest can say 

" How the waters of Heaven outshine them all! 

" Go, wing thy flight from star to star, 
" From world to luminous world, as far 

" As the universe spreads its flaming wall; 
" Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, 
(t And multiply each through endless years, 

" One mmute of Heaven is worth them all!" 

The glorious Angel, who was keeping 
The gates of Light, beheld her weeping, 
And, as he nearer drew and listen'd 
To her sad song, a tear-drop glisten'd 

• "Numerous small islands emerge from the Lake of 
Cashmere. One is called Char Chenaur from the plane 
trees upon it." — Forster. 

f " The Altan Kol, or GoldenRiver of Tibet, which runs 
into the Lakes of Sing-su-hay, has abundance of gold in its 
sands, which employs the inhabitants all the summer in 
gathering it"— Detcription of Tibet i?t Pinkerton. 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 



115 



Within his eyelids, like the spray 
From Eden's fountain, when it lies 

On the blue flow'r, which — Bramins say- 
Blooms no where but in Paradise! 

" Nymph of a fair, but erring line!" 

Gently he said — " One hope is thine. 

" Tis written in the Book of Fate, 
" The Peri yet may be forgiven 

" IVho brings to this Eternal Gate 

" The Gift that is most dear to Heaven! 

" Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin; — 

" 'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in!" 

Rapidly as comets run 
To th' embraces of the Sun: — 
Fleeter than the starry brands, 
Flung* at night from angel hands* 
At those dark and daring sprites, 
Who would climb th' empyreal heights, 
Down the blue vault the Peri flies, 

And, lighted earthward by a glance 
That just then broke from morning's eyes, 

Hung hovering o'er our world's expanse. 



* <e The Mahometans suppose that falling stars are the 
firebrands wherewith the good angels drive away the bad, 
when they approach too near the empyreum or verge of the 
Heavens.". —Fryer. 



116 LALLA ROOKH. 

But whither shall the Spirit go 

To find this gift for heav'n? — " I know 

" The wealth," she cries, " of every urn, 

" In which unnumber'd rubies burn, 

u Beneath the pillars of Chilminar;* — 

" I know where the Isles of Perfume are 

" Many a fathom down in the sea, 

" To the south of sun-bright Araby;| — 

" I know too where the Genii hid 

u The jewell'd cup of their King Jamshid,| 

u With Life's elixir sparkling high — 

*' But gifts like these are not for the sky. 

* Where was there ever a gem that shone 

" Like the steps of Alla's wonderful Throne? 

" And the Drops of Life — oh! what would they be 

" In the boundless Deep of Eternity?" 

While thus she mus'd, her pinions fann'd 
The air of that sweet Indian land, 

* The Forty Pillars; so the Persians call the ruins of 
Persepolis. It is imagined by them that this palace and the 
edifices at Balbec, were built by Genii, for the purpose of 
hiding in their subterraneous caverns, immense treasures 
which still remain there. — D'Herbelot, Volney. 

•}■ The Isles of Panchaia. 

+ " The cup of Jamshid, discovered, they say, when 
digging for the foundations of Persepolis." — Richardson. 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 117 

Whose air is balm; whose ocean spreads 
O'er coral banks and amber beds; 
Whose mountains, pregnant by the beam 
Of the warm sun, with diamonds teem; 
Whose rivulets are like rich brides, 
Lovely, with gold beneath their tides; 
Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice 
Might be a Peri's Paradise! 
But crimson now her rivers ran 

With human blood — the smell of death 
Came reeking from those spicy bowers, 
And man, the sacrifice of man, 

Mingled his taint with every breath 
Upwafted from the innocent flowers! 
Land of the Sun! what foot invades 
Thy Pagods and thy piilar'd shades—*- 
Thy cavern shrines, and Idol stones, 
Thy Monarchs and their thousand Thrones? 
5 Tis he of Gazna* — fierce in wrath 

He comes, and India's diadems 
Lie scatter'd in his ruinous path.— 

His blood-hounds he adorns with gems, 
Torn from the violated necks 

Of many a young and lov'd Sultana;f — 

Maidens, within their pure Zenana, 

* Mahmood of Gazna, or Ghizni, who conquered India in 
the beginning of the 11th century.— v. History in Doto and 
Sir J. Malcolm. 

*' It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan 



118 LALLA ROOKH. 

Priests in the very fane he slaughters, 
And choaks up with the glittering- wrecks 
Of golden shrines the sacred waters! 

Downward the Peri turns her gaze, 
And, through the war-field's bloody haze 
Beholds a youthful warrior stand, 

Alone, beside his native river, — 
The red blade broken in his hand 

And the last arrow in his quiver. 
" Live," said the Conqueror, " live to share 
The trophies and the crowns I bear!" 
Silent that youthful warrior stood — 
Silent he pointed to the flood 
All crimson with his country's blood, 
Then sent his last remaining dart, 
For answer, to th' Invader's heart. 

False flew the shaft, though pointed well — 
The Tyrant liv'd, the Hero fell! 

Mahmoud was so magnificent, that he kept 400 grey -hounds 
and blood-bounds, each of which wore a collar set with 
jewels, and a covering edged with gold and pearls.— Univer- 
sal Hist, vol. iii. ^m. 



^v 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 119 

l^et mark'd the Peri where he lay, 

AdcI when the rush of war was past, 
Swiftly descending' on a ray 

Of morning" light, she caught the last — 
Last glorious drop his heart had shed, 
Before its free-born spirit fled! 

Be this," she cried, as she wing'd her flight. 
My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. 
Though foul are the drops that oft distil 

" On the field of warfare, blood like this, 

" For Liberty shed, so holy is, 
It would not stain the purest rill, 

" That sparkles among" the Bowers of Bliss! 

Oh! if there be, on this earthly sphere, 

A boon, an offering" Heaven holds dear, 

'Tis the last libation Liberty draws 

From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause i^ 

" Sweet," said the Angel, as she gave 

The gift into his radiant hand, 
" Sweet is our welcome of the Brave 

" Who die thus for their native Land. — 
" But see — alas! — the crystal bar 
" Of Eden moves not — holier far 
" Than ev'n this drop the boon must be, 
" That opes the Gates of Heav'n for thee!" 



120 LALLA ROOKH. 

Her first fond hope of Eden blighted, 

Now among Afric's Lunar Mountains,* 
Far to the South, the Peri lighted; 

And sleek'd her plumage at the fountains 
Of that Egyptian tide, — whose birth 
Is hidden from the sons of earth, 
Deep in those solitary woods, 
Where oft the Genii of the Floods 
Dance round the cradle of their Nile, 
And hail the new-born Giant's smile! f 
Thence, over Egypt's palmy groves, 

Her grots, and sepulchres of KingsJ 
The exil'd Spirit sighing roves, 
And now hangs listening to the doves 
In warm Rosetta's vale§ — now loves 

To watch the moonlight on the wings 
Of the white pelicans that break 
The azure calm of Moeris' Lake. IT 

* u The Mountains of the Moon, or the Montes Lunae o\ 
antiquity, at the foot of which the Nile is supposed to arise." 
. — Bruce. 

\" The Nile, which the Abyssinians know by the names of 
Abey and Alawy or the Giant." — Asiat. Research, vol. i. 
p. 387. 

+ V. Perry's View of the Levant for an account of the se- 
pulchres in Upper Thebes, and the numberless grots, covered 
all over with hieroglyphics in the mountains of Upper Egypt. 

§ 4i The orchards of Rosetta are tilled with turtle-doves." 
— Sonvini 

% Savary mentions the pelicans upon Lake Mcerit . 



PARADISE AND TME PERI. 121 

'Twas a fair scene — a Land more bright 

Never did mortal eye behold! 
Who could have thought, that saw this night 

Those valleys and their fruits of gold 
Basking in heav'n's serenest light; — 
Those groups of lovely date-trees bending 

Languidly their leaf-crown'd heads, 
Like youthful maids, when sleep descending 

Warns them to their silken beds;f— 
Those virgin lilies, all the night 

Bathing their beauties in the lake, 
That they may rise more fresh and bright. 

When their beloved Sun's awake; — 
Those ruin'd shrines and towers that seem 
The relics of a splendid dream; 

Amid whose fairy loneliness 
Nought but the lap-wing's cry is heard, 
Nought seen but (when the shadows, flitting 
Fast from the moon, unsheath its gleam) 
Some purple-wing'd SultanaJ sitting 

Upon a column, motionless 

j- ■ The superb date-tree, whose head languidly reclines, 
like that of a handsome -woman overcome with sleep."— 
Dafard el Hadad. 

% " ^'hat beautiful bird, with plumage of the finest shining 
blue, with purple beak and legs, the natural and living orna- 
ment ©f the temples and palaces of the Greeks and Romans, 
which from the stateliness of its port, as well as the brilliancy 
of its colours, has obtained the title of Sultana,"— Sonnini. 
L 



122 LALLA R00KH. 

And glittering*, like an idol bird! — 

Who could have thought, that there, ev'n there. 

Amid those scenes so still and fair, 

The Demon of the Plague hath cast 

From his hot wing a deadlier blast, 

More mortal far than ever came 

From the red Desert's sands of flame! 

So quick, that every living thing 

Of human shape, touch'd by his wing, 

Like plants, where the Simoom hath past. 

At once falls black and withering! 

The sun went down on many a brow, 

Which, full of bloom and freshness then. 
Is rankling in the pest-house now, 

And ne'er will feel that sun again! 
And oh! to see the unburied heaps 
On which the lonely moonlight sleeps— 
The very vultures turn away, 
And sicken at so foul a prey! 
Only the fierce hyaena stalks* 
Throughout the city's desolate walks ' 
At midnight, and his carnage plies — 

Wo to the half-dead wretch, who meets 

•Jackson speaking of the plague that occurred in Wesi 
Barbary, when he was there, says " The birds of the air fled 
away from the abodes of men. The bysenas, on the contrary,, 
visited the cemeteries," &c 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 123 

The glaring of those large blue eyesf 
Amid the darkness of the streets! 

u Poor race of Men!" said the pitying Spirit, 

Dearly ye pay for your primal Fall— 
* Some flow'rets of Eden ye still inherit, 

11 But the trail of the Serpent is over them all!" 
She wept — the air grew pure and clear 
Around her, as the bright drops ran; 
For there's a magic in each tear 
Such kindly spirits weep for man! 

Just then beneath some orange trees, 
Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze 
Were wantoning together, free, 
Like age at play with infancy — 
Beneath that fresh and springing bower, 

Close by the Lake, she heard the moan 
Of one who, at this silent hour, 

Had thither stol'n to die alone. 
One who in life, where'er he mov'd, 

Drew after him the hearts of many; 
Yet now, as though he ne'er were lov'd, 

Dies here, unseen, unwept by any! 
None to watch near him — none to slake 

The fire that in his bosom lies, 
With e'en a sprinkle from that lake, 

Which shines so cool before his eyes. 

f Bruce. 



124 LALLA ROOKH. 

No voice, well-known through many a day, 

To speak the last, the parting* word, 
Which, when all other sounds decay, 

Is still like distant music heard. 
That tender farewell on the shore 
Of this rude world, when all is o'er, 
Which cheers the spirit, ere its bark 
Puts off into the unknown Dark. 

Deserted youth! one thought alone 

Shed joy around his soul in death — 
That she, whom he for years had known 
And lov'd, and might have call'd his own, 

Was safe from this foul midnight's breath: 
Safe in her father's princely halls, 
Where the cool airs from fountain falls, 
Freshly perfum'd by many a brand 
Of the sweet wood from India's land, 
Were pure as she whose brow they fann'd. 

But see, who yonder comes by stealth, 

This melancholy bower to seek, 
Like a young envoy, sent by Health, 

With rosy gifts upon her cheek? 
5 Tis she— far off, through moonlight dim, 

He knew his own betrothed bride, 
She, who would rather die with him, 

Than live to gain the world beside! 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 125 

Her arms are round her lover now, 

His livid cheek to hers she presses, 
And dips, to bind his burning" brow, 

In the cool lake her loosen'd tresses. 
Ah! once, how little did he think 
An hour would come, when he should shrink 
With horror from that dear embrace, 

Those gentle arms, that were to him 
Holy as is the cradling place 

Of Eden's infant cherubim! 
And now he yields — now turns away, 
Shuddering as if the venom lay 
All in those proffer'd lips alone — 
Those lips that, then so fearless grown, 
Never until that instant came 
Near his unask'd or without shame. 
" Oh! let me only breathe the air, 

" The blessed air, that's breath'd by thee, 
u And, whether on its wings it bear 

" Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me! 
** There, drink my tears, while yet they fall, 

" Would that my bosom's blood were balm, 
<* And, well thou know'st, I'd shed it all, 

" To give thy brow one minute's calm. 
" Nay, turn not from me that dear lace — 

" Am I not thine — thy own lov'd bride — 
** The one, the chosen one, whose place, 

*' In life or death is bv thy side! 
L 2 



126 LALLA ROOKH. 

" Think' st thou that she, whose only light, 

" In this dim world, from thee hath shone, 
" Could bear the long, the cheerless night, 

" That must be hers, when thou art gone? 
" That I can live, and let thee go, 
" Who art my life itself? No, no— 
" When the stem dies, the leaf that grew 
" Out of its heart must perish too! 
" Then turn to me, my own love, turn, 
" Before like thee I fade and burn; 
" Cling to these yet cool lips, and share 
" The last pure life that lingers there!" 
She fails — she sinks — as dies the lamp 
In charnal airs or cavern-damp, 
So quickly do his baleful sighs 
Quench all the sweet light of her eyes! 
One struggle — and his pain is past — 

Her lover is no longer living! 
One kiss the maiden gives, one last, 

Long kiss, which she expires in giving! 

" Sleep,'* said the Peri, as softly she stole 
The farewell sigh of that vanishing soul, 
As true as e'er warm'd a woman's bre ast; 
" Sleep on, in visions of odour rest, 
" In balmier airs than ever yet stirr'd 
" The enchanted pile of that holy bird, 



PARADISE AJVJD THE FERL. 127 

u Who sings at the last his own death lay,* 
" And in music and perfume dies away!" 

Thus saying", from her lips she spread 

Unearthly breathing's through the place, 
And shook her sparkling* wreath, and shed 

Such lustre o'er each paly face, 
That like two lovely saints they seem'd 

Upon the eve of dooms-day taken 
From their dim graves, in odour sleeping; 

While that benevolent Peri beam'd 
Like their good angel, calmly keeping 

Watch o'er them, till their souls would waken! 

But morn is blushing in the skyj 

Again the Peri soars above, 
Bearing to heav'n that precious sigh 

Of pure, self-sacrificing love. 
High throbb'd her heart, with hope elate, 

The Elysian palm she soon will win, 
For the bright Spirit at the gate 

SmiFd as she gave that offering in; 

* "In the east, they suppose the Phoenix to have fifty 
orifices in his bill, which are continued to his tail; and that, 
after living one thousand years, he builds himself a funeral 
pile, sings a melodious air of different harmonies through his 
fifty organ pipes, flaps his wings with a velocity which sets 
fire to the wood, and consumes himself." Richardson* 



128 LALLA ROOKH. 

And she already hears the trees 

Of Eden, with their crystal bells 
Ringing* in that ambrosial breeze 

That from the Throne of Alla swells; 
And she can see the starry bowls 

That he around that lucid lake 
Upon whose banks admitted Souls 

Their first sweet draught of glory take!* 

But ah! ev'n Peris' hopes are vain — 

Again the Fates forbade, again 

The immortal barrier elos'd — " not yet," 

The Angel said as, with regret, 

He shut from her that glimpse of glory — 

u True was ftie maiden, and her story, 

" Written in light o'er Alla's head, 

" By seraph eyes shall long be read. 

" But, Peri, see — the crystal bar 

" Of Eden moves not — holier far 

" Than even this sigh the boon must be 

" That opes the gates of Heav'n for thee." 

* " On the shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thou- 
sand goblets, made of stars, out of which souls predestined to 
enjoy felicity drink the crystal wave." From Chateaubri- 
and *s Description of the Mahometan Paradise, in his Beau- 
ties of Christianity. 



PARADISE AND THE PERI* 129 

Now, upon Syria's land of roses* 
Softly the light of Eve reposes, 
And, like a glory, the broad sun 
Hangs over sainted Lebanon; 
Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, 

And whitens with eternal sleet, 
While summer in a vale of flowers 

Is sleeping rosy at his feet. 

To one, who look'd from upper air 
O'er all the enchanted regions there, 
How beauteous must have been the glow, 
The life, the sparkling from below! 
Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks 
Of golden melons on their banks, 
More golden where the sun-light falls; 
Gay lizards, glittering on the wallsf 
Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright 
As they were all alive with light; 
And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks 
Of pigeons, settling on the rocks, 

• Richardson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri, a 
beautiful and delicate species of rose, for which that country 
has been always famous; — hence, Suristan, the Land of Roses. 

f Si The number of lizards I saw one day in the great 
court of the Temple of the Sun at Balbec, amounted to 
many thousands; the ground, the walls, and stones of the ru- 
ined buildings, were covered with them." — Bruce. 



130 LALLA ROOKH. 

With their rich restless wings, that gleam 

Variously in the crimson beam 

Of the warm west, as if inlaid 

With brilliants from the mine, or made 

Of tearless rainbows, such as span 

The unclouded skies of Peristan! 

And then, the mingling sounds that come, 

Of shepherds' ancient reed,* with hum 

Of the wild bees of Palestine, 

Banquetting through the flowery vales; 
And, Jordan, those sweet banks of thine, 

And woods, so full of nightingales! 

But nought can charm the luckless Peri; 
Her soul is sad— her wings are weary- 
Joyless she sees the sun look down 
On that great Temple, once his own,f 
Whose lonely columns stand sublime, 

Flinging their shadows from on high, 
Like dials, which the wizard, Time, 

Had rais'd to count his ages by! 

Yet haply there may lie conceaPd 

Beneath those Chambers of the Sun, 
Some amulet of gems, anneal'd 
In upper fires, some tablet seal'd 

* The Syrinx or Pan's pipe is still a pastoral instrument in 
Syria. — Mussel. 

f The Temple of the Sun at Balbec. 



PARADISE AND THE PERL 131 

With the great name of Solomon, 

Which, spell'd by her illumin'd eyes, 
May teach her where, beneath the moon, 
In earth or ocean lies the boon, 
The charm, that can restore so soon, 

An erring spirit to the skies! 

Cheer'd by this hope she bends her thither; 

Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven, 

Nor have the golden bowers of Even 
In the rich West begun to wither, 
When, o'er the vale of Balbec winging 

Slowly, she sees a child at play, 
Among the rosy wild-flowers singing, 

As rosy and as wild as they; 
Chasing, with eager hands and eyes, 
The beautiful blue-damsel flies,* 
That flutter'd round the jasmine stems, 
Like winged flowers or flying gems: 
And, near the boy, who tir'd with play- 
Now nestling 'mid the roses lay, 
She saw a wearied man dismount 

From his hot steed, and on the brink 
Of a small imaret's rustic fount 

Impatient fling him down to drink. 

* "You behold there a considerable number of a remarka- 
ble species of beautiful insects, the elegance of whose appear* 
ante and their attire, procured for them the name of Dam- 
sels." — Sonnini. 



132 LALLA ROOKH. 

Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd 

To the fair child, who fearless sat, 
Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd 

Upon a brow more fierce than that, 
Sullenly fierce — a mixture dire, 
Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire! 
In which the Peri's eye could read 
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed; 
The ruin'd maid — the shrine profan'd — 
Oaths broken — and the threshold stain'd 
With blood of guests! there written, all, 
Black as the damning drops that fall 
From the denouncing AngePs pen, 
Ere Mercy weeps them out again! 

Yet tranquil now that man of crime, 
(As if the balmy evening time 
Soften'd his spirit,) look'd and lay, 
Watching the rosy infant's play: 
Though still, whene'er his eye by chance 
Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance 

Met that unclouded, joyous gaze, 
As torches, that have burnt all night 
Through some impure and godless rite, 

Encounter morning's glorious rays. 

But hark! the vesper call to prayer. 
As slow the orb of day-light sets, 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 133 



Is rising" sweetly on the air, 

From Syria's thousand minarets! 

The boy has started from the bed 

Of flowers, where he had laid his head, 

And down upon the fragrant sod 

Kneels, with his forehead to the south, 

Lisping th' eternal name of God 
From Purity's own cherub mouth, 

And looking, while his hands and eyes 

Are lifted to the glowing skies, 

Like a stray babe of Paradise, 

Just lighted on that flowery plain, 

And seeking for its home again! 

Oh 'twas a sight — that Heav'n — that Child — 

A scene, which might have well beguil'd 

Ev'n haughty Eblis of a sigh 

For glories lost and peace gone by! 

And how felt he, the wretched Man 

Reclining there — while memory ran 

O'er many a year of guilt and strife. 

Flew o'er the dark flood of his life, 

Nor found one sunny resting-place, 

Nor brought him back one branch of grace! 

" There was a time," he said, in mild, 

Heart-humbled tones — " thou blessed child! 

" When young and haply pure as thou, 

" I look'd and pray'd like thee — but now — " 

M 



134 LALLA ROOKH. 

He hung" his head — each nobler aim 

And hope and feeling", which had slept 
From boyhood's hour, that instant came 

Fresh o'er him, and he wept — he wept! 

Blest tears of soul-felt penitence! 

In whose benign, redeeming flow 
Is felt the first, the only sense 

Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. 
" There's a drop," said the Peri, " that down from the 

" moon 
" Falls through the withering* airs of June 
" Upon Egypt's land,* of so healing a power. 
" So balmy a virtue, that even in the hour 
" That drop descends, contagion dies, 
" And health reanimates earth and skies! 
a Oh, is it not thus, thou man of sin, 

" The precious tears of repentance fall? 
" Though foul thy fiery plagues within, 
" One heavenly drop hath dispell'd them all!" 

And now — behold him kneeling there 
By the child's side, in humble prayer, 
While the same sun-beam shine's upon 
The guilty and the guiltless one, 
And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven 
The triumph of a Soul Forgiven! 

* The Nucta, or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt pre- 
cisely on St. John's day in June, and is supposed to have the 
effect of stopping the plague. 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 135 

'Twas when the golden orb had set, 
While on their knees they linger'd yet, 
There fell a light, more lovely far 
Than ever came from sun or star, 
Upon the tear that, warm and meek, 
Dew'd that repentant sinner's cheek; 
To mortal eye this light mip-ht seem 
A northern flash or meteor beam — 
But well th' emartur'd Peri knew 
'Twas a bright smile the Angel threw 
From Heaven's gate, to hail that tear 
Her harbinger of glory near! 

" Joy, joy for ever! my task is done — 

" The Gates are pass'd, and Heaven is won! 

" Oh! am I not happy? I am, I am — 

" To thee, sweet Eden! how dark and sad 
" Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,* 

" And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad! 

" Farewell, ye odours of earth that die, 
" Passing away like a lover's sigh; — 

* The Country of Delight,— the name of a Prorince in the 
kingdom of Jinnistan, or Fairy Land, the capital of which is 
called the city of Jewels. Amberabad is another of the cities 
of Jinnistan. 



136 LALLA ROOKH. 

" My feast is now of the Tooba Tree,* 
" Whose scent is the breath of Eternity! 
" Farewell ye vanishing flowers, that shone 

" In my fairy wreath, so bright and brief, — 
" Oh! what are the brightest that e'er have blown, 
" To the lote-tree, springing by Alla's Throne,f 

" Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf I 
cc Joy, joy for ever! — my task is done — 
" The Gates arepass'd, and Heav'n is won!" 

* The tree Tooba, that stands in Paradise, in the palace 
of Mahomet, v. Sale's Prelim. Disc. — Touba, says D'Her- 
belot 9 signifies beatitude, or eternal happiness; 

f Mahomet is described, in the 53d Chapter of the Koran, 
as having seen the angel Gabriel " by the lote-tree, beyond 
-which there is no passing: near it is the Garden of Eternal 
Abode " This tree, say the commentators, stands in the 
seventh Heaven, on the right hand of the Throne of God. 



LALLA ROOKH. 137 



"AND this," said the Great Chamberlain, " is poetry! 
this flimsy manufacture of the brain, which, in com- 
parison with the lofty and durable monuments of genius, 
is as the gold filigree-work of Zamara beside the 
eternal architecture of Egypt?" After this gorgeous 
sentence, which, with a few more of the same kind, 
iFadladeen kept by him for rare and important occa- 
sions, he proceeded to the anatomy of the short poem 
just recited. The lax and easy kind of metre in which 
it was written ought to be denounced, he said, as one 
I( of the leading causes of the alarming growth of poetry 
in our times. If some check were not given to this 
lawless facility, we should soon be overrun by a race 
of bards as numerous and as shallow as the hundred 
and twenty thousand Streams of Basra.* They who 
succeeded in this style deserved chastisement for their 
very success; — as warriors have been punished, even 
after gaining a victory, because they had taken the 
liberty of gaining it in an irregular or unestablished 
manner. What then was to be said to those who failed? 
to those who presumed, as in the present lamentable 

* " It is said that the rivers or streams of Basra were 
reckoned in the time of Belal ben Abi Bordeh, and amounted 
to the number of 120 thousand streams."— Ebn Raukal. 
M 2 



138 LALLA ROOKH. 

instance, to imitate. the licence and ease of the bolder 
sons of song, without any of that grace or vigour which 
gave a dignity even to negligence; — who, like them, 
flung the jereed* carelessly, but not, like them,' to the 
mark; — " and who," said he, raising his voice to excite 
a proper degree of wakefulness in his hearers, u contrive 
to appear heavy and constrained in the midst of all the 
latitude they have allowed themselves, like one of those 
young pagans that dance before the Princess, who has 
the ingenuity to move as if her limbs were fettered, in 
a pair of the lightest and loosest drawers of Masuli- 
pataui!" 

It was but little suitable, he continued, to the grave 
march of criticism to follow this fantastical Peri, of 
whom they had just heard, through all her fligh^ and 
adventures between earth and heaven, but he could not 
help adverting to the puerile conceitedness of the Three 
Gifts which she is supposed to carry to the skies, — a 
drop of blood, forsooth, a sigh, and a tear! How the first 
ojf these articles was delivered into the Angel's " radiant 
hand," he professed himself at a loss to discover; and 
as to the safe carriage of the sigh and the tear, such 
Peris and such Poets were beings by far too incompre- 
hensible for him even to guess how they managed such 
matters. " But, in short," said he, " it is a waste of 

* The name of the javelin with which the Easterns exer- 
cise, v. Castellan, Moeurs dcs Othomans, torn. 3. p. 161. 



LAI.LA RGOKH. 139 

ffUime and patience to dwell longer upon a thing* so in- 
i curably frivolous, — puny even among its own puny race, 
. and such as only the Banyan Hospital for Sick Insects* 
1 should undertake." 

In vain did Lalla Rookh try to soften this inexora- 
l ble critic; in vain did she resort to her most eloquent 
common-places j — reminding- him. that poets were a timid 
- and sensitive race, whose sweetness was not to be drawn 
I forth, like that of the fragrant grass near the Ganges, 
> by crushing and trampling upon them; — that severity 
often destroyed every chance of the perfection which it 
demanded; and that, after all, perfection was like the 
Mountain of the Talisman, — no one had ever yet reached 
its summit. f Neither these gentle axioms, nor the still 
gentler looks with which they were inculcated, could 
lower for one instant the elevation of Fadladeen's 
eyebrows, or charm him into any thing like encourage- 
ment or even toleration of her poet. Toleration, in- 
deed, was not among the weaknesses of Fadladeen; — 
he carried the same spirit into matters of poetry and 
of religion, and, though little versed in the beauties or 

* For a description of this Hospital of the Banyans, y. Par- 
sons' s Travels y p. 262. 

f " Near this is a curious hill, called Koh Talism, the 
Mountain of the Talisman, because, according to the tradi- 
tious of the country, no person ever succeeding in gaining its 
summit." — Kinneir. 



140 LALLA ROOKH. 

sublimities of either, was a perfect master of the art of 
persecution in both. His zeal too was the same in 
either pursuit; whether the game before him was 
pagans or poetasters, — worshippers of cows, or writers 
of epics. 

They had now arrived at the splendid city of Lahore, 
whose mausoleums and shrines, magnificent and num- 
berless, where Death seemed to share equal honours 
with Heaven, would have powerfully affected the heart 
and imagination of Lalla Rookh, if feelings more of 
this earth had not taken entire possession of them alrea- 
dy. She was here met by messengers despatched from 
Cashmere, who informed her that the king had arrived in 
the valley, and was himself superintending the sumptuous 
preparations that were making in the saloons of the Sha- 
limar for her reception. The chill she felt on receiving 
this intelligence, which to a bride whose heart was free 
and light would have brought only images of affection 
and pleasure, convinced her that her peace was gone for- 
ever, and that she was in love, irretrievably in love, with 
young Feramorz. The veil which this passion wears at 
first had fallen off, and to know that she loved was now 
as painful as to love without knowing it had been delici- 
ous. Feramorz too— what misery would be his, if the 
sweet hours of intercourse so imprudently allowed them 
should have stolen into his heart the same fatal fascination 
as into hers; if, notwithstanding her rank, and the mo- 
dest homage he always paid to it, even he should have 



LALLA ROOKH. 141 

yielded to the influence of those long and happy inter- 
views, where music, poetry, the delightful scenes of na- 
ture, all tended to bring their hearts close together, and 
to waken by every means that too ready passion, which 
often, like the young of the desert bird, is warmed into life 
by the eyes alone!* She saw but one way to prevent her- 
self from being culpable as well as unhappy, and this, 
however painful, she was resolved to adopt. Feramorz 
must no more be admitted to her present e. To have 
strayed so far into the dangerous labyrinth was wrong, 
but to linger in it, while the clew was yet in her hand, 
would be criminal. Though the heart she had to offer 
to the king of Bucharia might be cold and broken, it 
should at least be pure; and she/tnust only try to forget 
the short vision of happiness she had enjoyed, like that 
Arabian shepherd, who, in wandering into the wilder- 
ness, caught a glimpse of the gardens of Irim, and then 
lost them again forever! f 

The arrival of the young bride at Lahore was celebra- 
ted in the most enthusiastic manner. The Rajas and 
Omras in her train, who had kept at a certain distance 
during the journey, and never encamped nearer to the 
princess than was strictly necessary for her safeguard, 

* The Arabians believe that the ostriches hatch their 
yoang by only looking at them.— P. Vansiebe, Relat. d'E- 
gypte. 

f V. Sale's Koran, note, vol. 2. p. 484. 



142 LALLA ROOKM. 



here rode in splendid cavalcade through the city, am 
distributed the most costly presents to the crowd. En- 
gines were erected in all the squares, which cast forth 
showers of confectionary among the people; while thi 
artisans, in chariots adorned with tinsel and flying strea- 
mers, exhibited the badges of their respective trades 
through the streets. Such brilliant displays of life and 
pageantry among the palaces, and domes, and gilded mi- 
narets of Lahore, made the city altogether like a place 
of enchantment; particularly on the day when Lalla 
Bookh set out again upon her journey, when she was 
accompanied to the gate by all the fairest and richest of 
the nobility, and rode along between ranks of beautiful 
boys and girls, who w^aved plates of gold and silver flow- 
ers over their heads* as they went, and then threw them 
to be gathered by the populace. 

For many days after their departure from Lahore, a 
considerable degree of gloom hung over the whole party. 
Lalla Kookh, who had intended to make illness an ex- 
cuse for not admitting the young minstrel, as usual, to 
the pavilion, soon found that to feign indisposition was 
unnecessary; Fadladeen felt the loss of the good road 
they had hitherto travelled, and was very near cursing 
Jehan-guire, of blessed memory, for not having continu- 
ed his delectable alley of trees,f at least as far as the 

* Ferishta. 

f The fine road made by the emperor Jehan-Guire from 
Agra to Lahore, planted with trees on each ssde. 



. 



: 



LALLA ROOKH. 143 

mountains of Cashmere; while the ladies, who had no- 
thing* now to do all day but to be fanned by peacocks 
feathers, and listen to Fadladeen, seemed heartily wea- 
ry of the life they led, and, in spite of all the great cham- 
berlain's criticisms, were tasteless enough to wish for the 
poet again. One evening", as they were proceeding- to 
their place of rest for the night, the princess, who, for 
the freer enjoyment of the air, had mounted her favour- 
ite Arabian palfrey, in passing by a small grove, heard 
the notes of a lute from within its leaves, and a voice, 
which she but too well knew, singing- the following- 
words: 

Tell me not of joys above, 

If that world can give no bliss, 
Truer, happier than the love 

Which enslaves our souls in this! 

Tell me not of Houris' eyes; 

Far from me their dangerous g-low, 
If those looks that lig-ht the skies 

Wound like some that burn below! 

Who that feels what love is here, 

All its falsehood, all its pain, 
Would, for ev'n Elysium's sphere. 

Risk the fatal dream again? 

Who that midst a desert's heat 
Sees the waters fade awav. 



144 LALLA ROOKH. 

Would not rather die than meet 
Streams again as false as they? 

The tone of melancholy defiance in which these words 
were uttered, went to Lalla Rookh's heart; and, as she 
reluctantly rode on, she could not help feeling- it as a sad 
but sweet certainty, that Feramorz was to the full as 
enamoured and miserable as herself. 

The place where they encamped that evening- was the 
first delightful spot they had come to since they left La- 
hore. On one side of them was a grove full of small 
Hindoo temples, and planted with the most graceful trees 
of the East; where the tamarind, the cassia, and the silk- 
en plan tains of Ceylon were mingled in rich contrast 
with the high fan-like foliage of the Palmyra; that fa- 
vourite tree of the luxurious bird that lights up the 
chambers of its nest with fire-flies.* In the middle of 
the lawn where the pavilion stood there was a tank sur- 
rounded by small mangoe trees, on the clear cold waters 
of which floated multitudes of the beautiful red lotus, 
while at a distance stood the ruins of a strange and aw- 
ful looking tower, which seemed old enough to have 
been the temple of some religion no longer known, and 
which spoke the voice of desolation in the midst of all 
that bioom and loveliness. This singular ruin excited 
the wonder and conjectures of all. Lalla Rookh guess- 

• The Baya, or Indian Gros-beak.— -Sir W. Jones 






t 

LALLA ROOKH. 145 

ed in vain, and the all-pretending* Fadladeen, who had 
never till this journey been beyond the precincts of Del* 
hi, was proceeding most learnedly to show that he knew 
nothing whatever about the matter, when one of the la- 
dies suggested, that perhaps Feramorz could satisfy 
their curiosity. They were now approaching his native 
mountains, and this tower might be a relic of some of 
those dark superstitions which had prevailed in that 
country before the light of Islam dawned upon it. The 
chamberlain, who usually preferred his own ignorance 
to the best knowledge that any one else could give him, 
was by no means pleased with this officious reference; 
and the princess too was about to interpose a faint word 
of objection, but, before either of them could speak, a 
slave was despatched for Feramorz, who, in a very few 
minutes appeared before them, looking so pale and un- 
happy in Lalla Rookh's eyes, that she already re- 
pented of her cruelty in having so long excluded him. 

That venerable tower, he told them, was the remains 
of an ancient Fire-Temple, built by those Ghebers or 
Persians of the old religion, who, many hundred years 
since, had fled hither from their Arab conquerors, pre- 
ferring liberty and their altars in a foreign land to the 
alternative of apostacy br persecution in their own. It 
was impossible, he added, not to feel interested in the 
many glorious but unsuccessful struggles, which had 
been made by these original natives of Persia to cast off 
the yoke of their bigoted conquerors. Like their own 



146 LALLA ROOKH. 

Fire in the Burning Field at Bakou,* when suppressed 
in one place, they had but broken out with fresh flame in 
another; and, as a native of Cashmere, of that fair and 
Holy Valley, which had in the same manner become the 
prey of strangers, and seen her ancient shrines and na- 
tive princes swept away before the march of her intoler- 
ant invaders, he felt a sympathy, he owned, with the suf- 
ferings of the persecuted Ghebers, which every monu- 
ment like this before them but tended more powerfully 
to awaken. 

It was the first time that Feramorz had ever ven- 
tured upon "so "much prose before Fadladeen, and it 
may easily be conceived what effect such prose as this 
must have produced upon that most orthodox and most 
pagan-hating personage. He sat for some minutes 
aghast, ejaculating only at intervals, "Bigoted con- 
querors! — sympathy with Fire-worshippers! — while Fe- 
ramorz, happy to take advantage of this almost speech- 
less horror of the Chamberlain, proceeded to say that he 
knew a melancholy story, connected with the events of 
one of those brave struggles of the Fire-worshippers of 
Persia against their Arab masters, which, if the evening 
was not too far advanced, he should have much pleasure 
in being allowed to relate to the Princess. It was im- 
possible for Lalla Rookh to refuse; he had never be- 
fore looked half so animated, and when he spoke of the 

* The u Agcr ardens" described by Kempfer f Jlm<enitat. Exot. 



LALLA ROOKH. 147 

Holy Valley his eyes had sparkled, she thought, like the 
talismanic characters on the scimitar of Solomon. Her 
consent was therefore most readily granted, and while 
Fadladeen sat in unspeakable dismay, expecting trea- 
son and abomination in every line, the poet thus began 
his story of the Fire- worshippers: — 



14% LA1XA R00KM. 



1 IS moonlight over Oman's Sea;* 

Her banks of pearl and palmy isles 
Bask in the night-beam beauteously, 

And her blue waters sleep in smiles. 
5 Tis moonlight in HARMoziA'sf walls, 
And through her Emir's porphyry halls, 
Where, some hours since, was heard the swell 
Of trumpet and the clash of zel,+ 
Bidding the bright- eyed sun farewell; 
The peaceful sun, whom better suits 

The music of the bulbul's nest, 
Or the light touch of lovers' lutes, 

To sing him to his golden rest! 
All hush'd — there's not a breeze in motion; 
The shore is silent as the ocean. 
If zephyrs come, so light they come, 

Nor leaf is stirr'd, nor wave is driven; 

* The Persian Gulf, sometimes so called, which separates 
the shores of Persia and Arabia. 

f The present Gombaroon, a town on the Persian side of 
the Gulf. 

A A Moorish instrument of music. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 149 

The wind-tower on the Emir's dome* 
Can hardly win a breath from heaven* 

Ev'n he, that tyrant Arab, sleeps 

Calm while a nation round him weeps; 

While curses load the air he breathes, 

And falchions from unnumber'd sheaths 

Are starting to avenge the shame 

His race hath brought on Iran'sj name. 

Hard, heartless Chief, unmov'd alike 

Mid eyes that weep and swords that strike; 

One of that saintly, murderous brood, 

To carnage and the Koran given, 
Who think through unbelievers' blood 

Lies their directest path to heaven. 
One, who will pause and kneel unshod 

In the warm blood his hand hath pour'd> 
To mutter o'er some text of God 

Engraven on his reeking sword;} 
Nay, who can coolly point the linej 
The letter of those words divine, 

* " At Gombaroon and other places in Persia, they have 
towers for the purpose of catching the wind, and cooling the 
houses."— Le Bruyn. 

f " Iran is the true general name for the empire of Per- 
sia."— Jsiat. Res. Disc. 5. 

* " On the blades of their scimitars some verse from the 
Koran is usually inscribed."— RusscL 

w 2 



150 LALLA HOOKH. 

To which his blade with searching art. 
Had sunk into its victim's heart! 

Just All a! what must be thy look, 

When such a wretch before thee stands 
Unblushing", with thy Sacred Book, 

Turning the leaves with blood-stain'd hands ? 
And wresting from its page sublime 
His creed of lust and hate and crime! 
Ev'n as those bees of Trebizond, — 

Which from the sunniest flowers that glad 
With their pure smile the gardens round, 

Draw venom forth that drives men mad!f 

Never did fierce Arabia send 

A satrap forth more direly great; 
Never was Iran doom'd to bend 

Beneath a yoke of deadlier weight. 
Her throne had falPn — her pride was crush'd — 
Her sons were willing slaves, nor blush'd, 
In their own land, no more their own, 
To crouch beneath a stranger's throne. 
Her towers, where Mithra once had burn'd, 
To Moslem shrines — oh shame! — were turn'd, 

f " There is a kind of Rbododendros about Trebizond, 
•whose flowers the bee feeds upon, and the honey tbence 
drives people mad,"—Towrwe/br/. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS.. 151 

Where slaves, converted by the sword, 
Their mean, apostate worship pour'd, 
And curs'd the faith their sires ador'd. 
Yet has she hearts, mid all this ill, 
O'er all this wreck high buoyant still 
With hope and vengeance; hearts that yet. 

Like gems, in darkness issuing rays 
They've treasur'd from the sun that's set, 

Beam all the light of long-lost days! 
And swords she hath, nor weak nor slow 

To second all such hearts can dare; 
As he shall know, well, dearly know, 

Who sleeps in moonlight luxury there, 
Tranquil as if his spirit lay 
Becalm'd in heavVs approving ray! 
Sleep on — for purer eyes than thine 
Those waves are hush'd, those planets shine. 
Sleep on, and be thy rest unmov'd 

By the white moonlight's dazzling power; 
None but the loving and the lov'd 

Should be awake at this sweet hour. 

And see — where, high above those rocks 

That o'er the deep their shadows fling, 
Yon turret stands; where ebon locks, 

As glossy as a heron's wing 

Upon the turban of a king,* 

* " Their kings wear plumes of black herons' feathers upon 
the right side, as a badge of sovereignty." — Han-way. 



152 LALLAROOKH. 

Hang 1 from the lattice, long" and wild, — 
'Tis she, that Emir's blooming child, 
All truth and tenderness and grace, 
Though born of such ungentle race; 
An image of Youth's fairy Fountain 
Springing in a desolate mountain!* 

Oh what a pure and sacred thing 

Is Beauty, curtain'd from the sight 
Of the gross world, illumining 

One only mansion with her light! 
Unseen by man's disturbing eye, — 

The flower, that blooms beneath the sea 
Too deep for sunbeams, doth not lie 

Hid in more chaste obscurity! 
So, Hinda, have thy face and mind, 
Like holy mysteries, lain enshrin'd. 
And oh what transport for a lover 

To lift the veil that shades them o'er! 
Like those who, all at once, discover 

In the lone deep some fairy shore, 

Where mortal never trod before, 
And sleep and wake in scented airs 
No lip had ever breath'd but theirs! 

* " The Fountain of Youth, by a Mahometan tradition, is 
situated in some dark region of the east."— Richardson. 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 163 

Beautiful are the maids that glide, 

On summer-eves, through Yemen's* dales, 
And bright the glancing looks they hide 

Behind their litters' roseate veils; 
And brides, as delicate and fair 
As the white jasmine flowers they wear, 
Hath Yemen in her blissful clime, 

Who, lull'd in cool kiosk or bower, 
Before their mirrors count the time, 

And grow still lovelier every hour. 
But never yet hath bride or maid 

In Araby's gay Harams smil'd, * 

Whose boasted brightness would not fade 

Before Al Hassan's blooming child* 

Light as the angel shapes that bless 
An infant's dream, yet not the less 
Rich in all woman's loveliness; 
With eyes so pure, that from their ray 
Dark Vice would turn abash'd away, 
Blinded like serpents, when they gaze 
Upon the emerald's virgin blaze! f 
Yet, fill'd with all youth's sweet desires, 
Mingling the meek and vestal fires 

* Arabia Felix. 

f " They say that if a snake or serpent fix his eyes on the 
lustre of those stones (emeralds), he immediately becomes 
blind." — Ahmed ben Abdalaziz, Treatise on Jewels. 



154 JLALLA ROOKH. 

Of other worlds with all the bliss, 
The fond, weak tenderness of this! 
A soul too, more than half divine, 

Where, through some shades of earthly feeling, 
Religion's soften'd glories shine, 

Like light through summer foliage stealing, 
Shedding a glow of such mild hue, 
So warm, and yet so shadowy too, 
As makes the very darkness there 
More beautiful than light elsewhere! 

Such is the maid who, at this hour, 

Hath risen from her restless sleep, 
And sits alone in that high bower, 

Watching the still and moonlight deep. 
Ah! 'twas not thus, with tearful eyes 

And beating heart, she us'd to gaze 
On the magnificent earth and skies, 

In her own land, in happier days. 
Why looks she now so anxious down 
Among those rocks, whose rugged frown 

Blackens the mirror of the deep? 
Whom waits she all this lonely night? 

Too rough the rocks, too bold the steep, 
For man to scale that turret's height! 

So deem'd at least, her thoughtful sire, 
When high, to catch the cool night-air, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 155 

After the day-beam's withering fire*, 

He built her bower of freshness there, 
And had it deck'd with costliest skill, 

And fondly thought it safe as fair: 
Think, reverend dreamer! think so still, 

Nor wake to learn what Love can dare, 
Love, all-defying Love, who sees 
No charm in trophies won with ease; 
Whose rarest, dearest fruits of bliss 
Are pluck'd on Danger's precipice! 
Bolder than they, who dare not dive 

For pearls, but when the sea's at rest. 
Love, in the tempest most alive, 

Hath ever held that pearl the best 
He finds beneath the stormiest water! 
Yes — Araby's unrivall'd daughter, 
Though high that tower, that rock-way rude, 

There's one who, but to kiss thy cheek, 
Would climb th' untrodden solitude 
Of Ararat's tremendous peak,f 
And think its steeps, though dark and dread, 
Heav'n's path-ways, if to thee they led! 
Ev'n now thou seest the flashing spray, 
That lights his oar's impatient way; — 

* At Gombaroon and the Isle of Ormus it is sometimes so 
hot, that the people are obliged to He all day in the water. — 
Marco Polo. 

f This mountain is generally supposed to be inaccessible, 



156 LALLA ROOKH* 

Ev'n now thou hear'st the sudden shock 

Of his swift bark against the rock, 

And stretchest down thy arms of snow, 

As if to lift him from below! 

Like her to whom, at dead of night, 

The bridegroom, with his locks of light, * 

Came, in the flush of love and pride, 

And scal'd the terrace of his bride; — 

When, as she saw him rashly spring, 

And mid- way up in danger cling, 

She flung him down her long black hair, 

Exclaiming breathless, " There, love, there!" 

And scarce did manlier nerve uphold 

The hero Zal in that fond hour, 
Than wings the youth who fleet and bold 

Now climbs the rocks to Hilda's bower. 
See — light as up their granite steeps 

The rock- goats of Arabia clamber,f 
Fearless from crag to crag he leaps, 

And now is in the maiden's chamber. 

* In one of the books of the Shah Nameh, when Z&) (a 
celebated hero of Persia, remarkable for his -white hair), 
comes to the terrace of his mistress Rodahver at night, she 
lets down her long tresses to assist him in his ascent; — he, 
however, manages it in a less romantic way by fixing his crook 
in a projecting beam. — v. Champion's Ferdosi, 

f " On the lofty hills of Arabia Petraea are rock goats." 
~*Nicbuhr. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS* 157 

She loves — but knows not whom she loves, 

Nor what his race, nor whence he came;— 
Like one who meets, in Indian groves, 

Some beauteous bird, without a name, 
Brought by the last ambrosial breeze 
From isles in the undiscovered seas, 
To show his plumage for a day 
To wondering eyes, and wing away! 
Will he thus fly — her nameless lover? 

Alia forbid 'twas by a moon 
As fair as this, while singing over 

Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,* 
Alone, at this same witching hour, 

She first beheld his radiant eyes 
Gleam through the lattice of the bower, 

Where nightly now they mix their sighs; 
And thought some spirit of the air 
(For what could waft a mortal there?) 
Was pausing on his moonlight way 
To listen to her lonely lay! 
This fancy ne'er hath left her mind; 

And — though, when terror's swoon had past, 
She saw a youth, of mortal kind, 

Before her in obeisance cast, — 

* " Canun, espece de psalterion, avec des cordes de boyaux; 
les dames en touchent dans le serrail, avec des decailles ar- 
mies de pointes de coco/'— Toderini, translated by De 
Cournand. 



158 I ALL A ROOKH. 

Yet often since, when he has spoken 

Strange, awful words, — and gleams have broken 

From his dark eyes, too bright to bear, 

Oh! she hath fear'd her soul was given 
To some unhallow'd child of air, 

Some erring Spirit, cast from heaven, 
Like those angelic youths of old, 
Who burn'd for maids of mortal mould, 
Bewilder'd left the glorious skies, 
And lost their heaven for woman's eyes! 
Fond girl! nor fiend nor angel he, 
Who woos thy young simplicity; 
But one of earth's impassion'd sons, 

As warm in love, as fierce in ire 

As the best heart whose current runs 

Full of the Day-God's living fire! 

But quench'd to-night that ardour seems, 

And pale his cheek, and sunk his brow; — ■ 
Never before, but in her dreams, 

Had she beheld him pale as now: 
And those were dreams of troubled sleep, 
From which 'twas joy to wake and weep: 
Visions, that will not be forgot, 

But sadden every waking scene, 
Like warning ghosts, that leave the spot 

All wither'd where they once have been! 

" How sweetly," said the trembling maid. 
Of her own g-entle voice afraid. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 159 

So long" had they in silence stood, 

Looking" upon that moonlight flood — 

" How sweetly does the moonbeam smile 

" To-night upon yon leafy isle! 

" Oft, in my fancy's wanderings, 

" I've wish'd that little isle had wings, 

<c And we, within its fairy bowers, 

" Were wafted off to seas unknown, 
" Where not a pulse should beat but ours, 

" And we might live, love, die alone! 
"Far from the cruel and the cold, — 

" Where the bright eyes of angels only 
" Should come around us, to behold 
" A paradise so pure and lonely! 
" Would this be world enough for thee?" — 
Playful she turn'd, that he might see 

The passing smile her cheek put on; 
But when she mark'd how mournfully 

His eyes met hers, that smile was gone; 
And, bursting into heart-felt tears, 
" Yes, yes," she cried, " my hourly fears, 
" My dreams have boded all too right — 
" We part — for ever part — to-night! 
" I knew, I knew it could not last — 
" 'Twas bright, 'twas heavenly, but 'tis past! 
" Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour, 

" I've seen my fondest hopes decay; 
" I never lov'd a tree or flower, 
" But 'twas the first to fade away. 



160 i.ALLA ROOKH. 

M I never nurs'd a dear gazelle, 

" To glad me with its soft black eye, 
" But when it came to know me well, 

" And love me, it was sure to die! 
" Now too — the joy most like divine 

" Of all I ever dreamt or knew, 
" To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine, — 

" Oh misery! must I loose that too? 
" Yet go— on peril's brink we meet; — 

" Those frightful rocks — that treacherous sea- 
" No, never come again — though sweet, 

" Though heaven, it may be death to thee. 
" Farewell— and blessings on thy way, 

" Where'er thou go'st, beloved stranger! 
" Better to sit and watch that ray, 
" And think thee safe, though far away, 

" Than have thee near me, and in danger!" 

" Danger! — oh, tempt me not to boast — " 
The youth exclaimed — " thou little know'st 
" What he can brave, who, born and nurst 
" In danger's paths, has dar'd her worst! 
" Upon whose ear the signal-word 

" Of strife and death is hourly breaking; 
" Who sleeps with head upon the sword 

" His fever'd hand must grasp in waking! 
" Danger!—" 

" Say on — thou fear'st not then, 
" And we may meet — oft meet again?" 






THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 161 

" Oh! look not so, — beneath the skies 

" I now fear nothing but those eyes. 

" If aught on earth could charm or force 

" My spirit from its destin'd course, — 

" If aught could make this soul forget 

" The bond to which its seal is set, 

" 'T would be those ej^es;— they, only they. 

" Could melt that sacred seal away! 

" But no — 'tis fix'd — my awful doom 

" Is fix'd — on this side of the tomb 

" We meet no more — why, why did heaven 

" Mingle two souls that earth has riven, 

" Has rent asunder wide as ours? 

" Oh Arab maid! as soon the Powers 

" Of Light and Darkness may combine, 

" As I be link'd with thee or thine! 

" Thy Father -" 

" Holy All A save 
" His grey head from that lightning glance! 
" Thou know'st him not — he loves the brave; 

" Nor lives there under heaven's expanse 
" One who would prize, would worship thee, 
" And thy bold spirit, more than he. 
" Oft when, in childhood, I have play'd 

" With the bright falchion by his side, 
" I've heard him swear his lisping maid 
" In time 6hould be a warrior's bride. 
" And still, whene'er, at Haram hours, 
" I take him cool sherbets and flowers, 
o 2 



162 LALLA ROOKH. 

u He tells me, when in playful mood, 

" A hero shall my bridegroom be, 
" Since maids are best in battle woo'd, 

" And won mid shouts of victory! 
" Nay, turn not from me — thou alone 
" Art form'd to make both hearts thy own. 

" Go — join his sacred ranks — thou know'st 

" Th' unholy strife these Persians wage: — 
" Good Heav'n, that frown! — ev'n now thou glow*st 

" With more than mortal warrior's rage. 
u Haste to the camp by morning's light, 
" And, when that sword is rais'd in fight, 
" Oh still remember Love and I 
" Beneath its shadow trembling lie! 
" One victory o'er those Slaves of Fire, 
4t Those impious Ghebers, whom my sire 

« Abhors " 

" Hold, hold — thy words are death-—" 

The stranger cried, as wild he flung 
His mantle back, and show'd beneath 

The Gheber belt that round him clung — .* 

* " They (the Ghebers) lay so much stress on their cushee 
or girdle, as not to dare to be an instant without it.**— Grose's 
Voyage.- Le jeune homme nia d'abord la chose; mais, ayant 
€i€ de'pouille' de sa robe, et la large ceinture qu'il portoit 
oomme Ghebr, &e. &c. — D'flerbelot, art. Agduani. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 163 

" Here, maiden, look — weep — blush to see 
" All that thy sire abhors in me! 
" Yes — I am of that impious race, 

" Those Slaves of Fire who, morn and even, 
u Hail their Creator's dwelling-place 

" Among the living- lights of heaven!* 
" Yes — I am of that outcast few, 
" To Iran and to vengeance true, 
" Who curse the hour your Arabs came 
" To desolate our shrines of flame, 
" And swear, before God's burning eye, 
" To break our country's chains, or die! 
" Thy bigot sire — nay, tremble not — 

" He, who gave birth to those dear eyes, 
" With me is sacred as the spot 

" From which our fires of worship rise! 
" But know — 'twas he I sought that night, 

" When, from my watch-boat on the sea, 
" I caught this turret's glimmering light, 

M And up the rude rocks desperately 
" Rush'd to my prey — thou know'st the rest — 
" I climb 'd the gory vulture's nest, 
K And found a trembling dove within; — 
" Thine, thine the victory — thine the sin — 

* They suppose the Throne of the Almighty is seated in 
the sun, and hence their worship of that luminary. — Han- 
-way. 



164 LALLA R00KH. 

" If Love has made one thought his own, 

" That Vengeance claims first— last — alone! 

" Oh! had we never, never met, 

a Or could this heart ev'n now forget 

" How link'd, how bless'd we might have been, 

" Had fate not frown'd so dark between! 

" Hadst thou been born a Persian maid, 

" In neighbouring valleys had we dwelt, 
" Through the same fields in childhood play'd, 

" At the same kindling altar knelt, — 
" Then, then, while all those nameless ties, 
" In which the charm of Country lies, 
" Had round our hearts been hourly spun, 
* { Till Iran's cause and thine were one; — 
u While in thy lute's awakening sigh 
" I heard the voice of days gone by, 
" And saw in every smile of thine 
" Returning hours of glory shine! — 
" While the wrong'd Spirit of our Land 

" Liv'd, look'd, and spoke her wrongs through thee,- 
" God! who could then this sword withstand? 

" Its very flash were victory! 
" But now— estrang'd, divorced forever, 
" Far as the grasp of Fate can sever; 
" Our only ties what love has wove, — 

" Faith, friends, and country, sunder d wide; — 
" And then, then only, true to love, 

" When false to all that's dear beside! 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 165 

" Thy father Iran's deadliest foe — 

" Thyself, perhaps, ev'n now — but no— 

" Hate never look'd so lovely yet! 

" No — sacred to thy soul will be 
" The land of him who could forget 

" All but that bleeding land for thee? 
" When other eyes shall see, unmov'd, 

" Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, « 

" Thou'lt think how well one Gheber lov'd, 

" And for his sake thou'lt weep for all! 
" But look—" 

With sudden start he turn'd 

And pointed to the distant wave, 
Where lights, like charnel meteors, burn'd 

Bluely, as e'er some seaman's grave; 
And fiery darts, at intervals,* 

Flew up all sparkling from the main, 
As if each star, that nightly falls, 

Were shooting back to heaven again. 

" My signal-lights! I must away — 

,c Both, both are ruin'd, if I stay. 

" Farewell — sweet life! thou cling'st in vain — 

" Now — Vengeance! I am thine again." 

• M The Mameluks that were in the other boat, when it 
was dark used to shoot up a sort of fiery arrows into the 
air, which in some measure resembled lightning or falling 
stars."— Baumgarten. 



166 LALLA ROOKH. 

Fiercely he broke away, nor stopp'd, 
Nor look'd — but from the lattice dropp'd 
Down mid the pointed crags beneath, 
As if he fled from love to death. 
While pale and mute young Hinda stood, 
Nor mov'd, till in the silent flood 
A momentary plunge below 
Startled her from her trance of wo; 
Shrieking she to the lattice flew, 

" I come — I come — if in that tide 
" Thou sleep'st to-night — I'll sleep there too, 

" In death's cold wedlock by thy side. 
" Oh! I would ask no happier bed 

" Than the chill wave my love lies under^ 
" Sweeter to rest together dead, 

" Far sweeter, than to live asunder I" 
But no — their hour is not yet come — 

Again she sees his pinnace fly, 
Wafting him fleetly to his home, 

Where'er that ill-starr'd home may lie; 
And calm and smooth it seem'd to win 

Its moon-light way before the wind, 
As if it bore all peace within, 

Nor left one breaking heart behind! 



LALLA ROOKH. 167 



1 HE princess, whose heart was sad enough already, 
could have wished that Feramorz had chosen a less 
melancholy story; as it is only to the happy that tears 
are a luxury. Her ladies, however, were by no means 
sorry that love was once more the poet's theme; for 
when he spoke of love, they said, his voice was as 
sweet as if he had chewed the leaves of that enchanted 
tree, which grows over the tomb of the musician, Tan 
Sein. 

Their road all the morning' had lain through a very 
dreary country; through valleys, covered with a low 
bushy jungle, where, in more than one place, the awful 
signal of the bamboo staff, with the white flag at its 
top, reminded the traveller that in that very spot the 
tiger had made some human creature his victim. It 
was therefore with much pleasure that they arrived at 
sunset in a safe and lovely glen, and encamped under 
one of those holy trees, whose smooth columns and 
spreading roofs seem to destine them for natural tem- 
ples of religion. Beneath the shade, some pious hands 
had erected pillars ornamented with the most beautiful 
porcelain, which now supplied the use of mirrors to 
the young maidens, as they adjusted their hair in de- 



168 LALLA ROOKH. 

scending from the palankeens. Here while, as usual, 
the princess sat listening anxiously, with Fadladeen 
in one of his loftiest moods of criticism by her side, the 
young poet, leaning against a branch of the tree, thus 
continued his story.* 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 169 



1 HE morn has risen clear and calm, 

And o'er the Green Sea* palely shines, 
Revealing 1 Bahrein' sf groves of palm, 

And lighting KisHMA'sf amber vines. 
Fresh smell the shores of Araby, 
While breezes from the Indian sea 
Blow round Selama'sJ sainted cape, 

And curl the shining flood beneath, 
Whose waves are rich with many a grape. 

And cocoa-nut and flowery wreath, 
Which pious seamen, as they pass'd, 
Have tow'rd that holy head-land cast- 
Oblations to the Genii there 
For gentle skies and breezes fair! 
The nightingale now bends her flight 
From the high trees, where all the night 

She sung so sweet, with none to bsten; 

* The Persian Gulf. " To dive for pearls in the Green 
Sea, or Persian Gulf." Sir William Jones. 

f Islands in the Gulf. 

f Or Seleraeh, the genuine name of the headland at the 
entrance of the Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. 
" The Indians, when they pass the promontory, throw co- 
coa-nuts, fruits, or flowers, into the sea, to secure a propiti- 
ous voyage"' JWerier. 



170 LALLA ROOKH. 

And hides her from the morning' star 

Where thickets of pomegranate glisten 
In the clear dawn, bespangled o'er 
With dew, whose night-drops would not stain 
The best and brightest scimitar* 
That ever youthful Sultan wore 
On the first morning of his reign! 

And see — the Sun himself! on wings 
Of glory up the East he springs. 
Angel of Light! who from the time 
Those heavens began their march sublime, 
Has first of all the starry choir 
Trod in his Maker's steps of fire! 

Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere, 
When Iran, like a sun-flower, turn'd 
To meet that eye where'er it burn'd? 

W hen, from the banks of Bendemeer 
To the nut-groves of Sam arc and 
Thy temples flam'd o'er all the land? 
Where are they? ask the shades of them 

Who, on Cadessia's* bloody plains, 

* In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Franklin says, "the 
dew is of such a pure nature, that, if the brightest scimitar 
should be exposed to it all night, it would not receive the 
least rust." 

• The place where the Persians were finally defeated by 
the Arabs, and their ancient monarehy destroyed. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 171 

Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem 
From Iran's broken diadem, 

And bind her ancient faith in chains: 
Ask the poor exile, cast alone 
On foreign shores, unlov'd, unknown, 
Beyond the Caspian's iron Gates,* 

Or on the snowy Mossian mountains, 
Far from his beauteous land of dates, 

Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains! 
Yet happier so than if he trod 
His own belov'd but blighted sod, 
Beneath a despot stranger's nod; 
Oh! he would rather houseless roam 

Where Freedom and his God may lead, 
Than be the sleekest slave at home 

That crouches to the conqueror's creed! 
Is Iran's pride then gone forever, 

Quench'd with the flame in Mithra's caves? — 
No — she has sons that never — never — 

Will stoop to be the Moslem's slaves, 

While heav'n has light or earth has graves. 
Spirits of fire, that brood not long, 
But flash resentment back for wrong; 
And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds 
Of vengeance ripen into deeds, 

* Derbend. — u Les Tures appellent cette ville Demir Ca- 
pi, Porte de Per; ce sont les Caspias Porta des anciens."-- 
WHerbclot. 



112 LALLA ROOKH. 

Till, in some treacherous hour of calm, 
They burst, like Zeilan's giant palm,* 
Whose buds fly open with a sound 
That shakes the pigmy forests round! 

Yes, Emir! he, who scal'd that tower, 

And, could he reach thy slumbering breast. 
Would teach thee, in a Gheber's power 

How safe ev'n tyrant beads may rest — 
Is one of many, brave as he, 
Who loathe thy haughty race and thee; 
Who, though they know the strife is vain, 
Who, though they know the riven chain 
Snaps but to enter in the heart 
Of him who rends its links apart, 
Yet dare the issue, blest to be 
Ev'n for one bleeding moment free, 
And die in pangs of liberty! 
Thou know'st them well — 'tis some moons since 

Thy turban'd troops and blood-red flags, 
Thou satrap of a bigot Prince! 

Have swarm'd among these Green- Sea crags; 

* The Talpot or Talipot tree. " This beautiful palm-tree, 
which grows in the heart of the forests, may be classed among 
the loftiest trees, and becomes still higher when on the point 
of bursting forth from its leafy summit. The sheath which 
then envelopes the flower is very large, and, when it bursts, 
makes an explosion like the report of a cannon." — Thunberg, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 173 

Yet here, ev'nhere, a sacred band, 
Ay, in the portal of that land 
Thou, Arab, dar'st to call thy own, 
Their spears across thy path have thrown. 
Here — ere the winds half wing'd thee o'er — 
Rebellion brav'd thee from the shore. 

Rebellion! foul, dishonouring word, 

Whose wrongful blight so oft has stain'd 
The holiest cause that tongue or sword 

Of mortal ever lost or gain'd. 
How many a spirit, born to bless, 

Has sunk beneath that withering name, 
Whom but a day's, an hour's success 

Had wafted to eternal fame! 
As exhalations, when they burst 
From the warm earth, if chill'd at first, 
If check'd in soaring from the plain, 
Darken to fogs and sink again; 
But, if they once triumphant spread 
Their wings above the mountain-head, 
Become enthron'd in upper air, 
And turn to sun-bright glories there! 

And who is he that wields the might 

Of Freedom on the Green- Sea brink, 
Before whose sabre's dazzling light 

The eyes of Yemen's warriors wink? 
p 2 



174 LALLA ROOXII. 

Who comes embower'd in the spears 
Of Kerman's hardy mountaineers? 
Those mountaineers that truest, last, • 
Cling* to their country's ancient rites, 
As if that God, whose eyelids cast 
Their closing* gleam on Iran's heights, 
Among her snowy mountains threw 
The last light of his worship too! 

'Tis Hafed — name of fear, whose sound 

Chills like the muttering of a charm; 
Shout but that awful name around, 

And palsy shakes the manliest arm. 
'Tis Hafed, most accurst and dire 
(So rank'd by Moslem hate and ire) 
Of all the rebel sons of Fire! 
Of whose malign, tremendous power 
The Arabs, at their mid-watch hour, 
Such tales of fearful wonder tell, 
That each affrighted centinel 
Pulls down his cowl upon his eyes, 
Lest Hafed in the midst should rise! 
A man, they say, of monstrous birth, 
A mingled race of flame and earth, 
Sprung from those old, enchanted kings,* 

Who in their fairy helms, of yore, 

* Tahmuras, and other ancient Kings of Persia; whose ad- 
ventures in Fairy-Land among the Peris and Dives may be 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 175 

A feather from the mystic wings 

Of the Simoorgh resistless wore; 
And gifted by the Fiends of Fire, 
Who groan'd to see their shrines expire, 
With charms that, all in vain withstood, 
Would drown the Koran's light in blood! 

Such were the tales, that won belief, 

And such the colouring fancy gave 
To a young, warm and dauntless Chief, 

One who, no more than mortal brave, 
Fought for the land his soul ador'd, 

For happier homes and altars free, 
His only talisman, the sword, 

His only spell-word, Liberty! 
One of that ancient hero line, 
Along whose glorious current shine 
Names, that have sanctified their blood; 
As Lebanon's small mountain-flood 
Is render'd holy by the ranks 
Of sainted cedars on its banks!* 
3 Twas not for him to crouch the knee 
Tamely to Moslem tyranny; 

found in Richardson's curious Dissertation. The griffin Si- 
moorgh, they say, took some feathers from her breast for 
Tahmuras, with which he adorned his helmet, and transmit- 
ted them afterwards to his descendants. 

* This rivulet, says Dandini, is called the Holy River from 
the "cedar- saints" among which it rises* 



176 LALLA ROOKH- 

'Twas not for bim, whose soul was cast 
In the bright mould of ages past, 
Whose melancholy spirit, fed 
With all the glories of the dead, 
Though fram'd for Iran's happiest years, 
Was born among her chains and tears! 
Twas not for him to swell the crowd 
Of slavish heads, that shrinking bowed 
Before the Moslem, as he pass'd, 
Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast — 
No — far he fled — indignant fled 

The pageant of his country's shame; 
While every tear her children shed 

Fell on his soul like drops of flame; 
And, as a lover hails the dawn 

Of a first smile, so welcom'd he 
The sparkle of the first sword drawn 

For vengeance and for liberty! 

But vain was valour — vain the flower 
Of Kerman, in that deathful hour, 
Against Al Hassan's whelming power. 
In vain they met him, helm to helm, 
Upon the threshold of that realm 
He came in bigot pomp to sway, 
And with their corpses block'd his way — 
In vain — for every lance they rais'd 
Thousands around the conqueror blaz'd; 



THE FIRE-WORSHTPPERS. 1 77 

For every arm that lined their shore, 
Myriads of slaves were wafted o'er, 
A bloody, bold, and countless crowd, 
Before whose swarm as fast they bow'd 
As dates beneath the locust-cloud! 

There stood — but one short league away 
From old Harmozia's sultry bay — 
A rocky mountain o'er the Sea 
Of Oman beetling awfully. 
A last and solitary link 

Of those stupendous chains that reach 
From the broad Caspian's reedy brink 

Down winding to the Green-Sea beach. 
Around its base the bare rocks stood, 
Like naked giants, in the flood, 

As if to guard the Gulf across; 
While, on its peak that brav'd the sky, 
A ruin'd Temple tower'd, so high 

That oft the sleeping albatross* 
Struck the wild ruins with her wing, 
And from her cloud-rock'd slumbering 
Started — to find man's dwelling there 
In her own silent fields of air! 
Beneath, terrific caverns gave 
Dark welcome to each stormy wave 

* These birds sleep in the air. They are most common 
about the Cape of Good Hope. 



178 LALLA ROOKH. 

That dash'd, like midnight revellers, in; 
And such the strange, mysterious din 
At times throughout those caverns roll'd,, 
And such the fearful wonders told 
Of restless sprites imprison'd there, 
That bold were Moslem, who would dare, 
At twilight hour, to steer his skiff 
Beneath the Gheber's lonely cliff. 

On the land side, those towers sublime, 
That seem'd above the grasp of Time, 
Were sever'd from the haunts of men 
By a wide, deep and wizard glen, 
So fathomless, so full of gloom, 

No eye could pierce the void between; 
It seem'd a place where Gholes might come 
With their foul banquets from the tomb, 

And in its caverns feed unseen. 
Like distant thunder, from below, 

The sound of many torrents came; 
Too deep for eye or ear to know 
If 'twere the sea's imprison'd flow, 

Or floods of ever-restless flame. 
For each ravine, each rocky spire 
Of that vast mountain stood on fire;* 
And, though for ever past the days, 
When God was worshipp'd in the blaze 

* The Ghebers generally built their temples over subter- 
raneous fires. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 179 

That from its lofty altar shone, 

Though fled the priests, the votaries gone, 

Still did the mighty flame burn on 

Through chance and change, through good and ill, 

Like its own God's eternal will, 

Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable! 

Thither the vanquish'd Hafed led 

His little army's last remains; 
u Welcome, terrific glen!" he said, 
" Thy gloom, that Elbis' self might dread, 

" Is heav'n to him who flies from chains!" 
O'er a dark, narrow bridge-way, known 
To him and to his Chiefs alone, 
They cross'd the chasm and gain'd the towers; 
;< This home," he cried, " at least is ours — 
" Here we may bleed, unmock'd by hymns 

" Of Moslem triumph o'er our head; 

Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs 

" To quiver to the Moslem's tread. 
" Stretch'd on this rock, while vultures' beaks 

Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks, 
" Here, happy that no tyrant's eye 
" Gloats on our torments — we may die!" 

'Twas night when to those towers they came. 
And gloomily the fitful flame, 
That from the ruin'd altar broke, 
Glar'd on his features, as he spoke: 



180 LALLA ROOKH. 

" 'Tis o'er — what men could do, we've done — 

" If Iran will look tamely on, 

" And see her priests, her warriors driven 

" Before a sensual bigot's nod, 
" A wretch, who takes his lusts to heaven, 

" And makes a pander of his God! 
" If her proud sons, her high-born souls, 

" Men, in whose veins — oh last disgrace! 
" The blood of Zal and Rustam* rolls, 
" If they will court this upstart race, 
" And turn from Mithra's ancient ray, 
" To kneel at shrines of yesterday! 
" If they will crouch to Iran's foes, 

" Why, let them — till the land's despair 
" Cries out to heav'n, and bondage grows 

" Too vile for ev'n the vile to bear! 
<c Till shame at last, long hidden, burns 
" Their inmost core, and conscience turns 
" Each coward tear the slave lets fall 
" Back on his heart in drops of gall! 
" But here, at least, are arms unchain'd, 
" And souls that thraldom never stain 'd; 

" This spot, at least, no foot of slave 
" Or satrap ever yet profan'd: 

" And, though but few — though fast the wave 

• Ancient heroes of Persia. " Among the Guebres there 
are some, who boast their descent from Rustam,"— Stephen'* 
Perria. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 181 

: - Of life is ebbing from our veins, 

" Enough for vengeance still remains. 

" As panthers, after set of sun, 

M Rush from the roots of Lebanon 

" Across the dark sea-robber's way,* 

" We'll bound upon our startled prey; 

" And when some hearts that proudest swell 

" Have felt our falchion's la t farewell; 

" When Hope's expiring throb is o'er, 

iC And ev'n Despair can prompt no more, 

" This spot shall be the sacred grave 

" Of the last few who, vainly brave, 

** Die for the land they cannot save!" 

*His chiefs stood round — each shining blade 
Upon the broken altar laid — 
And though so wild and desolate 
Those courts, where once the Mighty sate: 
Nor longer on those mouldering towers 
Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers, 
With which of old the Magi fed 
The wandering Spirits of their Dead;f 

* V. Russel's account of the panthers attacking travellers 
in the night on the sea-shore about the roots of Lebanon. 

f " Among other ceremonies the Magi used to place upon 
the tops of high towers various kinds of rich viands, upon 
■which it was supposed the Peris and the spirits of their de- 
parted heroes regaled themselves." — Richardson, 



182 LALLA ROOKH. 

Though neither priest nor rites were there, 
Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate;* 

Nor hymn, nor censer's fragrant air, 
Nor symbol of their worshipp'd planet;f 

Yet the same God that heard their sires 

Heard them> while on that altar's fires 

They swore the latest, holiest deed 

Of the few hearts, still left to bleed, 

Should be, in Iran's injur'd name, 

To die upon that Mount of Flame — 

The last of all her patriot line, 

Before her last untrampled Shrine! 

Brave, suffering souls! they little knew 
How many a tear their injuries drew 
From one meek heart, one gentle foe, 
Whom Love first touch'd with others' wo — 

* In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their Fire, as 
described by Lord, "the Daroo,"he says, <e giveth them wa- 
ter to drink, and a pomegranate leaf to chew in the mouth, 
to cleanse them from inward uncleanness." 

f " Early in the morning, they (the Parsees or Ghebers 
at Oulam) go in crowds to pay their devotions to the Sun, to 
whom upon all the altars there are spheres consecrated, 
made by magic, resembling the circles of the sun, and when 
the sun rises, these orbs seem to be inflamed, and to turn 
round with a great noise. They have every one a censer in 
their hands, and »offer incense to the sun." — Rabbi Ben* 
jamin. 



TIIE F1RE-W0RSIIIPPERS. 183 

Whose life, as free from thought as sin, 
Slept like a lake, till Love threw in 
His talisman, and woke the tide, 
And spread its trembling circles wide. 
Once Emir! th}' unheeding child, 
Mid all this havoc, bloom'd and snnTd, 
Tranquil as on some battle-plain 

The Persian lily shines and towers, 
Before the combat's reddening stain 

Has fall'n upon her golden flowers. 
Light-hearted maid, unaw'd, unmov'd, 
While heaven but spar'd the sire she lov'd, 
Once at thy evening tales of blood 
Unlistening and aloof she stood — 
And oft, when thou hast pae'd along 

Thy Haram halls with furious heat, 
Hast thou not curs'd her cheerful song, 
That came across thee, calm and sweet, 
Like lutes of angels, touch'd so near 
Hell's confines, that the damn'd can hear! 
Far other feelings Love has brought — 

Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness, 
She has now but the one dear thought, 

And thinks that o'er, almost to madness! 
Oft doth her sinking heart recal 
His words — " for my sake weep for all;" 
And bitterly, as day on day 

Of rebel carnage fast succeeds, 
She weeps a lover snatch' d away 

In every Gheber wretch that bleeds. 



184 LALLA KOOKH. 

There's not a sabre that meets her eye, 

But with his life-blood seems to swim; 
There's not an arrow wings the sky, 

But fancy turns its point to him. 
No more she brings with footstep light 
Al Hassan's falchion for the fight; 
And, had he look'd with clearer sight, 
Had not the mists, that ever rise 
From a foul spirit, dimm'd his eyes — 
He would have mark'd her shuddering frame, 
"When from the field of blood he came, 
The faltering speech — the look estrang'd — 
Voice, step, and life, and beauty chang'd— 
He would have mark'd all this, and known 
Such change is wrought by Love alone! 

Ah! not the Love, that should have bless'd 
So young, so innocent a breast; 
Not the pure, open, prosperous Love, 
That, pledg'd on earth, and seal'd above, 
Grows in the world's approving eyes, 

In friendship's smile and home's caress, 
Collecting all the heart's sweet ties 

Into one knot of happiness! 
No, Hinda, no— thy fatal flame 
Is nurs'd in silence, sorrow, shame. 

A passion, without hope or pleasure. 
In thy soul's darkness buried deep, 

It lies, like some ill-gotten treasure, 
Some idol, without shrine or name, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 185 

O'er which which its pale-ey'd votaries keep 
Unholy watch, while others sleep! 

Seven nights have darken'd Oman's Sea, 

Since last, beneath the moonlight ray, 
She saw his light oar rapidly 

Hurry her Gheber's bark away, 
And still she goes at midnight hour, 
To weep alone in that high bower, 
And watch, and look along the deep 
For him whose smiles first made her weep; 
But watching, weeping, all was vain, 
She never saw that bark again. 
The owlet's solitary cry, 
The night-hawk, flitting darkly by, 

And oft the hateful carrion -bird, 
Heavily flapping his clogg'd wing, 
Which reek'd with that day's banquetting — 

Was all she saw, was all she heard. 

'Tis the eighth morn — Al Hassan's brow 

Is bright en'd with unusual joy — 
What mighty mischief glads him now, 

Who never smiles but to destroy? 
The sparkle upon Herkend's Sea, 
When tost at midnight furiously,* 

* u It is observed, with respect to the sea of Herkend, that 
when it is tossed by tempestuous winds it sparkles like fire." 
— Travels of two Mohammedans, 
* 2 






186 LALLA ROOKH. 

Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh, 

More surely than that smiling- eye; 

" Up, daughter, up— the Kerna'sf breath 

" Has blown a blast would waken death, 

" And yet thou sleep'st — up, child, and see 

" This bless'd day for heaven and me, 

" A day more rich in Pagan blood 

" Than ever flash'd o'er OmaVs flood. 

" Before another dawn shall shine, 

" His head— heart— limbs— will all be mine; 

" This very night his blood shall steep 

" These hands all over ere I sleep!" 

" His blood!" she faintly scream'd— her mind 

Still singling one from all mankind— 

18 Yes— spite of his ravines and towers, 

■ Hafed, my child, this night is ours. 

" Thanks to all-conquering treachery, 

" Without whose aid the links accurst, 
" That bind these impious slaves, would be 

" Too strong for Alla's self to burst! 
a That rebel fiend, whose blade has spread 
" My path with piles of Moslem dead, 
c ' Whose baffling spells had almost driven 
" Back from their course the Swords of Heaven, 

f A kind of trumpet; it " was that used by Tamerlane, the 
sound of which is described as uncommonly dreadful, and so 
loud as to be heard at the distance of several miles."— Rich- 
ardson, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 187 

This night ,^vith all his band, shall know 

How dee$ an Arab's steel can go, 

When God and Vegeance speed the blow. 

And — Prophet! — by that holy wreath 

Thou wor'st on Ohod's field of death,f 

I swear, for every sob that parts 

In anguish from these heathen hearts, 
1 A gem from Persia's plunder'd mines 

Shall glitter on thy Shrine of Shrines. 

But ha! — she sinks — that look so wild — 

Those livid lips — my child, my child, 

This life of blood befits not thee, 
*' And thou must back to Araby. 

" Ne'er had I risk'd thy timid sex 
" In scenes that man himself might dread 3 
" Had I not hop'd our every tread 
M Would be on prostrate Persian necks — 
" Curst race, they offer swords instead! 
" But cheer thee, maid — the wind, that now 
" Is blowing o'er thy feverish brow, 
" To-day shall waft thee from the shore; 
u And, ere a drop of this night's gore 
" Have time to chill in yonder towers, 
" Thou'lt see thy own sweet Arab bowers!" 

f " Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and exterior 
one; the latter of which, called Al Mawashah, the fillet, 
wreath, or wreathed garland, he wore at the battle of Ohod." 
"-Universal History, 



188 LALLA ROOKH. 

His bloody boast was all too true — 

There lurk'd one wretch among- the few ft 

Whom Hafed's eagle eye could count. 

Around him on that Fiery Mount, 

One miscreant, who for gold betray'd 

The path-way through the valley's shade 

To those high towers, where Freedom stood 

In her last hold of flame and blood. 

Left on the field last dreadful night, 

When, sallying from their Sacred Height, 

The Ghebers fought hope's farewell fight, 

He lay — but died not with the brave; 

That sun, which should have gilt his grave, 

Saw him a traitor and a slave; 

And, while the few, who thence return'd 

To their high rocky fortress, mourn'd 

For him among the matchless dead 

They left behind on glory's bed, 

He liv'd, and, in the face of morn, 

Laugh'd them and Faith and Heaven to scorn! 

Oh for a tongue to curse the slave, 
Whose treason, like a deadly blight, 

Comes o'er the councils of the brave, 
And blasts them in their hour of might! 

May Life's unblessed cup for him 

Be drugg'd with treacheries to the brim, 

With hopes, that but allure to fly, 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 189 



With joys, that vanish while he sips, 
Like Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the eye 

But turn to ashes on the lips! 
His country's curse, his children's shame, 
Outcast of virtue, peace and fame, 
May he, at last, with lips of flame 
On the parch'd desert thirsting- die, — 
While lakes that shone in mockery nigh 
Are fading offuntouch'd, untasted, 
Like the once glorious hopes he blasted! 
And, when from earth his spirit flies, 

Just Prophet, let the damn'd-one dwell 
Full in the sight of Paradise, 

Beholding heaven, and feeling hell! 



190 LALLA ROOKH. 



liALLA ROOKH had had a dream the night before, 
which, in spite of the impending- fate of poor Hafed, 
made her heart more than usually cheerful during the 
morning, and gave her cheeks all the freshened anima- 
tion of a flower that the Bid-musk has just passed over. 
She fancied that she was sailing on that Eastern Ocean, 
where the sea-gipsies, who live for ever on the water, 
enjoy a perpetual summer in wandering from isle to 
Use, when she saw a small gilded bark approaching her. 
It was like one of those boats which the Maldivian 
islanders annually send adrift, at the mercy of winds 
and waves, loaded with perfumes, flowers, and odori- 
ferous wood, as an offering to the Spirit whom they call 
King of the Sea. At first, this little bark appeared to 
be empty, but, on coming nearer 

She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream to 
her Ladies, when Feramorz appeared at the door of the 
pavilion. In his presence, of course, every thing else 
was forgotten, and the continuance of the story was in- 
stantly requested by all. Fresh wood of aloes was set 
to burn in the cassolets; the violet sherbets were hastily 
handed round, and, after a short prelude on his lute, in 
the pathetic measure of Nava, which is always used to 
express the lamentations of absent lovers, the Poet thus 
continued: — 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 191 



JT HE day is lowering — stilly black 
Sleeps the grim wave, while heaven's rack, 
Dispers'd and wild, 'twixt earth and sky 
Hangs like a shattered canopy! 
There's not a cloud in that blue plain 

But tells of storm to come or past; 
Here, flying loosely as the mane 

Of a young war-horse in the blast; 
There, roll'd in masses dark and swelling, 
As proud to be the thunder's dwelling! 
Whilst some, already burst and riven, 
Seem melting down the verge of heaven; 
As though the infant storm had rent 

The mighty womb that gave him birth, 
And, having swept the firmament, 

Was now in fierce career for earth. 
On earth 'twas yet all calm around, 
A pulseless silence, dread, profound, 
More awful than the tempest's sound. 
The diver steer'd for Ormus' bowers, 
And moor'd his skiff till calmer hours; 
The sea-birds, with portentous screech. 
Flew fast to land; upon the beach 
The pilot oft had paus'd, with glance 
Turn'd upward to that wild expanse; 



192 LALLA R00KH. 



w 



And all was boding", drear and dark 
As her own soul, when Hinda's bark 
Went slowly from the Persian shore- 
No music timed her parting" oar,* 
Nor friends upon the lessening strand 
Linger'd, to wave the unseen hand, 
Or speak the farewell, heard no more: 
But lone, unheeded, from the bay 
The vessel takes its mournful way, 
Like some ill-destin'd bark that steers 
In silence through the Gate of Tears. f 

And where was stern Al Hassan the*)? 
Could not that saintly scourg-e of men 
From bloodshed and devotion spare 
One minute for a farewell there? 
No — close within, in changeful fits 
Of cursing and of prayer, he sits 

* " The Easterns used to set out on their longer voyages 
with music." — Harmer. 

f " The Gate of Tears, the straits or passage into the Red 
Sea, commonly called Babelmandel. It received this name 
from the old Arabians, on account of the danger of the na-< 
vigation, and the number of shipwrecks by which it was dis- 
tinguished; which induced them to consider as dead, and to 
wear mourning for all who had the bolduess to hazard the 
passage through it into the Ethiopic ocean."— Richardson. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 193 

In savage loneliness to brood 
Upon the coming* night of blood, 

With that keen second-scent of death, 
By which the vulture snuffs his food 

In the still warm and living breath!* 
While o'er the wave his weeping daughter 
Is wafted from these scenes of slaughter, 
As a young bird of Babylon,! 
Let loose to tell of victory won, 
Flies home, with wing, ah! not unstain'd 
By the red hands that held her chain'd. 

And does the long-left home she seeks 

Light up no gladness on her cheeks? 

The flowers she nurs'd, the well-known groves. 

Where oft in dreams her spirit roves — 

Once more to see her dear gazelles 

Come bounding with their silver bells; 

Her birds' new plumage to behold, 

And the gay gleaming fishes count, 
She left, all filleted with gold, 

Shooting around their jasper fount, j; 

* " I have been told that whensoever an animal falls down 
dead, one or more vultures, unseen before, instantly appear." 
- —Pennant. 

f They fasten some writing to the wings of a Bagdat or 
Babylonian pigeon.' 5 — Travels of certain Englishmen. 

+ " The empress of JehanGuire used to divert herself 
with feeding tame fish in her canals, some of which were rna- 
R 



194 LALLA ROOKK. 

Her little garden mosque to see, 

And once again, at evening hour, ? 

To tell her ruby rosary, 

In her own sweet acacia bo wen 
Can these delights, that wait her now, 
Call up no sunshine on her brow? 
No — silent, from her train apart, 
As if even now she felt at heart 
The chill of her approaching doom, 
She sits, all lovely in her gloom 
As a pale angel of the grave; 
And o'er the wide tempestuous wave 
Looks, with a shudder, to those towers, 
Where, in a few short awful hours, 
Blood, blood, in steaming tides, shall run, 
Foul incense for to-morrow's sun! 
" Where art thou, glorious stranger! thou 
" So lov'd, so lost, where art thou now? 
« Foe — Gheber — infidel — whate'er 
" Th' unhallow'd name thou'rt doom'd to bear, 
" Still glorious — still to this fond heart 
" Dear as its blood, whate'er thou art! 
" Yes, Alla, dreadful Alla! yes — \ 
" If there be wrong, be crime in this, 
" Let the black waves that round us roll, 
" Whelm me this instant, ere my soul, 
" Forgetting faith, home, father, all — 
" Before its earthly idol fall, 

ny years afterwards known by fillets of gold which she eause«l 
to be put round them" — Harris. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 195 

" Nor worship ev'n Thyself above him. 
" For oh! so wildly do I love him, 
" Thy Paradise itself were dim, 
" And joyless, if not shar'd with him!" 

Her hands were clasp'd, her eyes upturn'd, 

Dropping their tears like moonlight rain; 
And though her lip, fond raver! burn'd 

With words of passion, bold, profane, 
Yet was there light around her brow, 

A holiness in those dark eyes, 
Which show'd, though wandering earthward now, 

Her spirit's home was in the skies. 
Yes — for a spirit pure as hers, 
Is always pure, ev'n while it errs; 
As sunshine, broken in the rill, 
Though turn'd astray, is sunshine still! 

So wholly had her mind forgot 

All thoughts but one, she heeded not > 

The rising storm — the wave that cast 

A moment's midnight, as it pass'd — 

Nor heard the frequent shout, the tread 

Of gathering tumult o'er her head^- 

Clash'd swords and tongues that seem'd to vie 

With the rude riot of the sky. 

But hark!— -that war-whoop on the deck — 

That crash, as if each engine there, 
Mast, sails, and all were gone to wreck, 

Mid yells and stampings of despair! 



:l 



196 LALLA ROOKH. 

Merciful Heaven! what can it be? 

? Tis not the storm, though fearfully 

The ship has shudder'd as she rode 

O'er mountain waves — " Forgive me God! 

" Forgive me" — shriek'd the maid, and knelt, 

Trembling all over,— for she felt 

As if her judgment-hour was near; 

While crouching round, half dead with fear, 

Her handmaids clung, nor breath'd, nor stirr'd- 

When hark! — a second crash — a third — 

And now, as if a bolt of thunder, 

Had riv'n the labouring planks asunder, 

The deck falls in— what horrors then! 

Blood, waves, and tackle, swords and men 

Come mix'd together through the chasm; 

Some wretches in their dying spasm 

Still fighting on — and some that call 

" For God and Iran!" as they fall! 

Whose was the hand that turn'd away 

The perils of th' infuriate fray, 

And snatch'd her breathless from beneath 

This wilderment of wreck and death? 

She knew not — for a faintness came 

Chill o'er her, and her sinking frame 

Amid the ruins of that hour 

Lay, like a pale and scorched flower, 

Beneath the red volcano's shower! 

But oh! the sights and sounds of dread 

That shock'd her ere her senses fled ! 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 197 

The yawning" deck— the crowd that strove 
Upon the tottering* planks above — 
The sail, whose fragments shivering o'er 
The stragglers' heads, all dash'd with gore, 
Flutter'd like bloody flags — the clash 
Of sabres, and the lightning's flash 
Upon their blades, high toss'd about 
Like meteor brands* — as if throughout 

The elements one fury ran, 
One general rage, that left a doubt 

Which was the fiercer, Heaven or man! 

Once too — but no — It could not be — 

'Twas fancy all — yet once she thought, 
While yet her fading eyes could see, 

High on the ruin'd deck she caught 
A glimpse of that unearthly form, 

That glory of her soul, — ev'n then, 
Amid the whirl of wreck and storm, 

Shining above his fellow-men, 
As, on some black and troublous night, 
The Star of Egypt,| whose proud light 
Never has beam'd on those who rest 
In the White Islands of the West,| 

* The meteors that Pliny calls " faces." 

f * The brilliant Canopus, unseen in European climates." 
— Broivn. 

$ V. Wilford's learned Essays on the Sacred Isles in the 
West. 

R 2 



198 LALLA ROOKH. 

Buras through the storm with looks of flame 
That put heav'n's cloudier eyes to shame! 
But no — 'twas but the minute's dream — 
A fantasy — and ere the scream 
Had half-way pass'd her pallid lips, 
A death-like swoon, a chill eclipse 
Of soul and sense its darkness spread 
Around her, and she sunk, as dead! 

How calm, how beautiful comes on 
The stilly hour, when storms are gone; 
When warring winds have died away, 
And clouds, beneath the glancing ray, 
Melt off, and leave the land and sea 
Sleeping in bright tranquillity, — 
Fresh as if Day again were born, 
Again upon the lap of Morn! 
When the light blossoms, rudely torn 
And scatter'd at the whirlwind's will. 
Hang floating in the pure air still, 
Filling it all with precious balm, 
In gratitude for this sweet calm;— 
And every drop the thunder-showers 
Have left upon the grass and flowers 
Sparkles, as 'twere that lightning-gemf 
Whose liquid flame is born of them! 

f A precious stone of the Indies, called by the ancients 
Ceraunium, because it was supposed to be found in places 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 199 

When, 'stead of one unchanging breeze, 
There blow a thousand gentle airs, 
And each a different perfume bears, — 

As if the loveliest plants and trees 
Had vassal breezes of their own 
To watch and wait on them alone, 
And waft no other breath than theirs"! 
When the blue waters rise and fall, 
In sleepy sunshine mantling all; 
And ev'n that swell the tempest leaves 
Is like the full and silent heaves 
Of lovers' hearts, when newly blest, 
Too newly to be quite at rest! 

Such was the golden hour, that broke 
Upon the world, when Hind a woke 
JProm her long trance, and heard around 
JNo motion but the water's sound 
Rippling against the vessel's side. 
As slow it mounted o'er the side. — 
But where is she? — her eyes are dark. 
Are wilder 'd still — is this the bark, 
The same, that from Harmozai's bay 
Bore her at morn — whose bloody way 
The sea-dog tracks?— no — strange and new 
Is all that meets her wondering view. 

where thunder had fallen. Tertullian says it has a glittering 
appearance, as if there had been fire in it; and the author of 
the Dissertation in Harris's Voyages supposes it to be the opaK 



200 LALLA ROOKH. 

Upon a galliot's deck she lies, 

Beneath no rich pavilion's shade, 
No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes, 

Nor jasmin on her pillow laid. 
But the rude litter, roughly spread 
With war-cloaks, is her homely bed, 
And shawl and sash, on javelins hung, 
For awning o'er her head are flung. 
Shuddering she look'd around — there lay 

A group of warriors in the sun 
Resting their limbs, as for that day 

Their ministry of death were done. 
Some gazing on the drowsy sea, 
Lost in unconscious reverie; 
And some, who seem'd but ill to brook 
That sluggish calm, with many a look 
To the slack sail impatient cast, 
As loose it flagg'd around the mast. 

Blest Alla! who shall save her now? 

There's not in all that warrior-band 
One Arab sword, one turban'd brow 

From her own Faithful Moslem land. 
Their garb — the leathern belt* that wraps 

Each yellow vestf-- that rebel hue — 

* D'Herbelot; Art. Agduani. 

"}• "The Guebres are known by a dark yellow colour, which 
the men affect in their clothes. — Thevenot. 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 201 

The Tartar fleece upon their caps — * 

Yes — yes — her fears are all too true, 
And Heav'n hath, in this dreadful hour, 
Abandon'd her to Hafed's power; — 
Hafed, the Gheber! — at the thought 

Her very heart's blood chills within; 
He, whom her soul was hourly taught 

To loathe, as some foul fiend of sin, 
Some minister, whom Hell had sent 
To spread her*blast, where'er he went, 
And fling, as o'er our earth he trod, 
His shadow betwixt man and God! 
And she is now his captive,— thrown 
In his fierce hands, alive, alone; 
His the infuriate band she sees, 
All infidels — all enemies! 
What was the daring hope that then 
Cross'd her like lightning, as again. 
With boldness, that despair had lent, 

She darted through that armed crowd 
A look so searching, so intent, 

That ev'n the sternest warrior bow'd 
Abash'd, when he her glances caught, 
As if he guess'd whose form they sought. 
But no— she sees him not — 'tis gone, — 
The vision, that before her shone 

* " The Kolah, or cap, worn by the Persians, is made of 
the skin of the sheep of Tartary. — Waring. 



202 LALLA ROOKH. 

Through all the maze of blood and storm, 
Is fled — 'twas but a phantom form — 
One of those passing, rainbow dreams, 
Half light, half shade, which Fancy's beams 
Paint on the fleeting mists that roll 
In trance or slumber round the soul! 

But now the bark, with livelier bound, 

Scales the blue wave — the crew's in motion- 
The oars are out, and with light sound 

Break the bright mirror of the ocean, 
Scattering its brilliant fragments round. 
And now she sees — with horror sees 
Their course is tow'rd that mountain hold 
Those towers, that make her life-blood freeze. 
Where Mecca's godless enemies 
Lie, like beleaguer'd scorpions, roll'd 
In their last deadly, venomous fold! 
Amid th' illumin'd land and flood 
Sunless that mighty mountain stood; 
Save where, above its awful head, 
There shone a flaming cloud, blood-red, 
As 'twere the flag of destiny 
Hung out to mark where death would be! 

Had her bewilder'd mind the power 

Of thought in this terrific hour, 

She well might marvel where or how 

Man's foot could scale that mountain's brow; 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 203 



Since ne'er had Arab heard or known 
Of path but through the glen alone. — 
But every thought is lost in fear, 
When, as their bounding bark drew near 
The craggy base, she felt the waves 
Hurry them tow'rd those dismal caves 
That from the Deep in windings pass 
Beneath that Mount's volcanic mass — 
And loud a voice on deck commands 
To lower the mast and light the brands! — 
Instantly o'er the dashing tide 
Within a cavern's mouth they glide, 
Gloomy as that eternal Porch, 

Through which departed spirits go; — 
Not ev'n the flare of brand and torch 

Its flickering light could further throw 

Than the thick flood that boil'd below. 
Silent they floated — as if each 
Sat breathless, and too aw'd for speech 
In that dark chasm, where even sound 
Seem'd dark, — so sullenly around 
The goblin echoes of the cave 
Muttered it o'er the long black wave. 
As 'twere some secrets of the grave! 
But, soft — thejr pause — the current turns 

Beneath them from its onward track; — 
Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns 

The vexed tide, all foaming, back, 



204 &ALLA ROOKH. 

And scarce the oar's redoubled force 

Can stem the eddy's whirling* force; — 

When, hark! — some desperate foot has sprung 

Among the rocks — the chain is flung — 

The oars are up — the grapple clings, 

And the toss'd bark in moorings swings. 

Just then, a day-beam through the shade 

Broke tremulous — but, ere the maid 

Can see from whence the brightness steals. 

Upon her brow she shuddering feels 

A viewless hand, that promptly ties 

A bandage round her burning eyes; 

While the rude litter where she lies. 

Uplifted by the warrior throng, 

O'er the steep rocks is borne along. 

Blest power of sunshine! genial Day, 
What balm, what life are in thy ray! 
To feel thee is such real bliss, 
That had the world no joy but this, 
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet,--- 
It were a world too exquisite 
For man to leave it for the gloom. 
The deep, cold shadow of the tomb! 
Ev'n Hinda, though she saw not where 

Or whither wound the perilous road. 
Yet knew by that awakening air, 

Which suddenly around her glow'd, 
That they had ris'n from darkness then. 
And breath'd the sunny world again! 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 20o 

But soon this balmy freshness fled — 

For now the steepy labyrinth led 

Through damp and gloom — 'mid crash of boughs. 

And fall of loosen'd crags that rouse 

The leopard from his hungry sleep, 

Who, starting, thinks each crag a prey, 
And long is heard from steep to steep, 

Chasing them down their thundering way' 
The jackal's cry — the distant moan 
Of the hyaena, fierce and lone; — 
And that eternal, saddening sound 

Of torrents in the glen beneath, 
As 'twere the ever-dark Profound 

That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death! 
All, all is fearful — ev'n to see 

To gaze on those terrific thing's 
She now but blindly hears, would be 

Relief to her imaginings! 
Since never yet was shape so dread, 

But Fancy, thus in darkness thrown, 
And by such sounds of horror fed, 

Could frame more dreadful of her own. 

But does she dream? has Fear again 
Perplex'd the workings of her brain, 
Or did a voice, all music, then 
Come from the gloom, all whispering near — 
" Tremble not, love, thy Gheber's here?" 
She does not dream— all sense, all ear, 
s 



206 LALLA ROOKH. 

She drinks the words, " thy Gheber's here." 
'Twas his own voice— she could not err — 

Throughout the breathing* world's extent 
There was but one such voice for her, 

So kind, so soft, so eloquent! 
Oh! sooner shall the rose of May 

Mistake her own sweet nightingale, 
And to some meaner minstrel's lay 

Open her bosom's glowing veil,* 
Than Love shall ever doubt a tone, 
A breath of the beloved one! 
Though blest, 'mid all her ills, to think 

She has that one beloved near, 
Whose smile, though met on ruin's brink. 

Has power to make ev'n ruin dear, — 
Yet soon this gleam of rapture, crost 
By fears for him, is chill'd and lost. 
How shall the ruthless Hafed brook 
That one of Gheber blood should look, 
With aught but curses in his eye, 
On her — a maid of Araby — 
A Moslem maid — the child of him, 

Whose bloody banner's dire success 
Has left their altars cold and dim. 

And their fair land a wilderness! 

* A frequent image among the oriental poets. " The 
nightingales warbled their enchanting notes, and rent the 
thin veils of the rose-bad and the rose."'— Jamu 



THE FIRE WORSHIPPERS. 207 

And, worse than all, that night of blood 
Which comes so fast — oh! who shall stay 

The sword, that once has tasted food 
Of Persian hearts, or turn its way? 

What arm shall then the victim cover, 

Or from her father shield her lover? 

" Save him, my God!" she inly cries — 
" Save him this night— and if thine eyes 

" Have ever welcom'd with delight 
" The sinner's tears, the sacrifice 

" Of sinners' hearts— guard him this night, 
" And here, before thy throne, I swear 
" From my heart's inmost core to tear 

" Love, hope, remembrance, though they be 
" Link'd with each quivering life-string there, 

" And give it bleeding all to Thee! 
" Let him but live, the burning tear, 
" The sighs, so sinful yet so dear, 
" Which bave been all too much his own s 
" Shall from this hour be Heaven's alone. 
" Youth pass'd in penitence, and age 
M In long and painful pilgrimage, 
" Shall leave no traces of the flame 
" That wastes me now — nor shall his name 
" E'er bless my lips, but when I pray 
" For his dear spirit, that away 
" Casting from its angelic ray 
" Th' eclipse of earth, he too may shine 
" Redeem'd, all glorious and all Thine! 



^08 JLALLA ROOKH. 

"• Think — think what victory to win 
" One radiant soul like his from sin; — 
" One wandering star of virtue back 
" To its own native, heaven -ward track! 
" !Let him but live, and both are Thine, 

" Together Thine— for, blest or crost, 
" Living or dead, his doom is mine, 

" And if he perish, both are lost!" 



LALLA ROOKH. 209 



-I HE next evening Lalla Rookh was entreated by 
her ladies to continue the relation of her wonderful 
dream; hut the fearful interest that hung round the fate 
of Hind a and her lover had completely removed every 
trace of it from her mind; much to the disappointment 
of a fair seer or two in her train, who prided themselves 
on their skill in interpreting visions, and who had alrea- 
dy remarked, as an unlucky omen, that the princess, on 
the very morning after the dream, had worn a silk dyed 
with the blossoms of the sorrowful tree, Nilica. 

Fadladeen, whose wrath had more than once brok- 
en out during the recital of some parts of this most hete- 
rodox poem, seemed at length to have made up his mind 
to the infliction; and took his seat this evening with all 
the patience of a martyr, while the poet continued his 
profane and seditious story thus: 



s2 



210 LALLA ROOKH. 



I O tearless eyes and hearts at ease 
The leafy shores and sun-bright seas, 
That lay beneath that mountain's height, 
Had been a fair, enchanting* sight. 
3 Twas one of those ambrosial eves 
A day of storm so often leaves 
At its calm setting — -when the West 
Opens her golden bowers of rest, 
And a moist radiance from the skies 
Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes 
Of some meek penitent, whose last, 
Bright hours atone for dark ones past, 
And whose sweet tears, o'er wrong forgiven, 
Shine, as they fall, with light from heaven! 

'Twas stillness all — the winds that late 

Had rush'd through Kerman's almond groves. 
And shaken from her bowers of date 

That cooling feast the traveller loves.* 
Now, lull'd to langour, scarcely curl 

The Green-Sea wave, whose waters gleam 
Limpid, as if her mines of pearl 

Were melted all to form the stream. 

* " In parts of Kerman, whatever dates are shaken from 
the trees by the wind they do not touch, but leave them foi 
those who have not any, or for travellers." Eb?i HaukeJ. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 211 

And her fair islets, small and bright, 

With their green shore reflected there, 
Look like those Peri isles of light, 

That hang by spell-work in the air. 

But vainly did those glories burst 
On Hinda's dazzled eyes, when first t 
The bandage from her brow was taken, 
And pale and aw'd as those who wstken 
In their dark tombs — when, scowling, near, 
The Searchers of the Grave* appear, 
She shuddering turn'd to read her fate 

In the fierce eyes that flash 'd around; 
And saw those towers all desolate, 

That o'er her head terrific frown'd, 
As if defying ev'n the smile 
Of that soft heaven to gild their pile. 
In vain, with mingled hope and fear, 
She looks for him whose voice so dear 
Had come, like music, to her ear — 
Strange, mocking dream! again 'tis fled. 
And oh! the shoots, the pangs of dread 
That through her inmost bosom run, 

When voices from without proclaim 
" Hafed, the Chief" — and, one by one, 

The warriors shout that fearful name! 

* The two terrible angels, Monkir and Nakir; who are 
called " the Searchers of the Grave" in the " Creed of the 
orthodox Mahometans," given by Ockley, vol. 2. 



212 LALLA ROOKH. 

He comes — the rock resounds his tread — 

How shall she dare to lift her head, 

Or meet those eyes, whose scorching- glare 

Not Yemen's boldest sons can bear? 

In whose red beam, the Moslem tells, 

Such rank and deadly lustre dwells, 

As in those hellish fires that light 

The mandrake's charnel leaves at night!* 

How shall she bear that voice's tone, 

At whose loud battle-cry alone 

Whole squadrons oft in panic ran, 

Scatter'd, like some vast caravan, 

When, stretch'd at evening round the well, 

They hear the thirsting tiger's yell! 

Breathless she stands, with eyes cast down, 
Shrinking beneath the fiery frown, 
Which, fancy tells her, from that brow 
Is flashing o'er her fiercely now; 
And shuddering, as she hears the tread 

Of his retiring warrior band. 
Never was pause so full of dread; 

Till Hafed with a trembling hand 
Took hers, and, leaning o'er her, said, 

* " The Arabians call the mandrake * the Devil's candle,' 
on account of its shining appearance in the night." Rich- 
ardson, 




THE FIRE WORSHIPPERS. 

" Hind a!" that word was all he spoke, 
And 'twas enough — the shriek that broke 
From her full bosom told the rest — 
Breathless with terror, joy, surprise, 
The maid but lifts her wondering eyes, 
To hide them on her Gheoer's breast! 
'Tis he, 'tis he — the man of blood, 
The fellest of the Fire-fiends brood, 
Hafed, the demon of the fight, 
Whose voice unnerves, whose glances blight, 
Is her own loved Gheber, mild 
And glorious as when first he smil'd 
In her lone tower, and left such beams 
Of his pure eye to light her dreams, 
That she believed her bower had given 
Rest to some habitant of heaven! 

Moments there are, and this was one, 
Snatch'd like a minute's gleam of sira. 
Amid the black Simoom's eclipse— 

Or like those verdant spots that bloom 
Around the crater's burning tips, 

Sweetening the very edge of doom! 
The past — the future — all that Fate 
Can bring of dark or desperate 
Around such hours, but makes them cast 
Intenser radiance while thev last! 






214 LALLA ROOKH. 

Ev'n he, this youth — though dimm'd and gone 

Each star of Hope that cheer'd him on — 

His glories lost — his cause betray'd — 

Iran, his dear-lov'd country, made 

A land of carcases and slaves, 

One dreary waste of chains and graves! 

Himself but lingering, dead at heart, 

To see the last, long-struggling breath 
Of Liberty's great soul depart, 

Then lay him down, and share her death — 
Ev'n he, so sunk in wretchedness, 

With doom still darker gathering o'er him, 
Yet in this moment's pure caress, 

In the mild eyes that shone before him, 
Beaming that blest assurance, worth 
All other transports known on earth, 
That he was lov'd — well, warmly lov'd — 
Oh! in this precious hour he prov'd 
How deep, how thorough-felt the glow 
Of rapture, kindling out of wo; 
How exquisite one single drop 
Of bliss, thus sparkling to the top 
Of misery's cup — how keenly quaff'd, 
Though death must follow on the draught! 



She too, while gazing on those eyes 

That sink into her soul so deep, 
Forgets all fears, all miseries, 
Or feels them like the wretch in sleep, 



• 



THE FIRE WORSHIPPERS. 215 

Whom fancy cheats into a smile, 
Who dreams of joy, and sobs the while! 
The mighty Ruins where they stood, 

Upon the mount's high, rocky verge, 
Lay open tow'rds the ocean flood, 

Where lightly o'er the illumin'd surge 
Many a fair bark that, all the day, 
Had lurk'd in sheltering creek or bay, 
Now bounded on and gave their sails, 
Yet dripping, to the evening gales; 
Like eagles, when the storm is done, 
Spreading their wet wings in the sun. 
The beauteous clouds, though daylight's Star 
Had sunk behind the hills of Lar, 
Were still with lingering glories bright, 
As if, to grace the gorgeous West, 

The Spirit of departing Light 
That eve had left his sunny vest 

Behind him, ere he wing'd his flight. 
Never was scene so form'd for love! 
Beneath them, waves of crystal move 
In silent swell — heav'n glows above, 
And their pure hearts, to transport given, 
Swell like the wave, and glow like heaveni 
But ah! too soon that dream is past — 

Again, again her fear returns; 
Night, dreadful night, is gathering fast, 

More faintly the horizon burns, 



216 LALLA ROOKH. 

And every rosy tint that lay 

On the smooth sea has died away. 

Hastily to the darkening skies 

A glance she casts— then wildly cries 

" At night, he said — and, look, 'tis near — 

" Fly, fly — if yet thou lov'st me, fly — 
" Soon will his murderous band be here, 

" And I shall see thee bleed and die. 
" Hush! heard'st thou not the tramp of men 
" Sounding from yonder fearful glen? 
" Perhaps ev'n now they climb the wood — 

" Fly, fly— though still the West is bright, 
" He'll come — oh! yes — he wants thy blood — 

" I know him — he'll not wait for night!" 



In terrors ev'n to agony 

She clings around the wondering Chief; 
" Alas, poor wilder'd maid! to me 

" Thou ow'st this raving trance of grief- 
" Lost as I am, nought ever grew 
" Beneath my shade but perish ? d too — 
" My doom is like the Dead Sea air, 
cC And nothing lives that enters there! 
" Why were our barks together driven 
" Beneath this morning's furious heaven? 
" Why, when I saw the prize that chance 

" Had thrown into toy desperate arms, 
" When, casting but a single glance 

" Upon thy pale and prostrate charms, 






THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 217 

" I vow'd (though watching viewless o'er 

" Thy safety through that hour's alarms) 
" To meet the unmanning" sight no more^- 
" Why have I broke that heart-wrung vowr 
" Why weakly, madly met thee now? 
" Start not — that noise is but the shock 

" Of torrents through yon valley hurl'd — 
" Dread nothing here—upon this rock 

" We stand above the jarring world, 
" Alike beyond its hope — its dread — 
" In gloomy safety, like the Dead! 
" Or, could ev'n earth and hell unite 
" In league to#storm this Sacred Height, 
" Fear nothing thou — myself, to-night, 
I And each o'erlooking star that dwells 
" Near God will be thy centinels; 
" And, ere to-morrow's dawn shall glow, 

" Back to thy sire >" ' 

" To-morrow! — no — " 
The maiden scream'd — " thou'lt never see 
" To-morrow's sun — death, death will be 

The night-cry through each reeking tower, 
" Unless we fly, ay, fly this hour! 
" Thou art betray'd— some wretch who knew 
" That dreadful glen's mysterious clew — 
" Nay, doubt not— by yon stars, 'tis true — 
" Has sold thee to my vengeful sire; 
" This morning, with that smile so dire 

T 



218 JLALLA ROOKH. 

" He wears iu joy, he told me all, 

" And stamp'd injfciumph through our hall, 

" As though thy heart already beat 

" Its last life-throb beneath his feet! 

" Good Heav'n, how little dream'd I then 

" His victim was my own lov'd youth! 
« Fly — send — let some one watch the glen — 

" By all my hopes of heaven 'tis truth!" 
Oh! colder than the wind that freezes 

Founts, that but now in sunshine play'd, 
Is that congealing pang which seizes 

The trusting bosom, when betray'd. 
He felt it — deeply felt — and stood, 
As if the tale had froz'n his blood, 

So maz'd and motionless was he; 
Like one whom sudden spells enchant. 
Or some mute, marble habitant 

Of the still Halls of Ishmonie!* 

But soon the painful chill was o'er, 
And his great soul, herself once more, 
Look'd from his brow in all the rays 
Of her best, happiest, grandest days! 

* For an account of Ishmonie, the petrified city in Upper 
Egypt, where it is said there are many statues of men, wo- 
men, &c. to be seen to this day, v. Perry's View of the 
Levant, 






THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 219 

Never, in moment more elate, 

Did that high spirit loftier rise; 
While bright, serene, determinate, 
His looks are lifted to the skies, 
As if the signal-lights of Fate 

Were shining in those awful eyes! 
'Tis come — his hour of martyrdom 
In Iran's sacred cause is come; 
And, though his life has pass'd away 
Like lightning on a stormy day, 
Yet shall his death-hour leave a track 

Of glory, permanent and bright, 
To which the brave of after-times, 
The suffering brave, shall long look back 

With proud regret — and by its light 

Watch through the hours of slavery's night 
For vengeance on the oppressor's crimes! 
This rock, his monument aloft, 

Shall speak the tale to many an age; 
And hither bards and heroes oft 

Shall come in secret pilgrimage, 
And bring their warrior sons, and tell 
The wondering boys where Hafed fell, 
And swear them on those lone remains 
Of their lost country's ancient fanes, 
Never — while breath of life shall live 
Within them — never to forgive 
The accursed race, whose ruthless chain 
Has left on Iran's neck a stain 
Blood, blood alone can cleanse again! 



220 lalla rook:h. 

Such are the swelling- thoughts that now 

Enthrone themselves on Hafed's brow; 

And ne'er did Saint of Issa* gaze . 
On the red wreath, for martyrs twin'd, 

More proudly than the youth surveys 

That pile, which through the gloom behind. 
Half lighted by the altar's fire, 
Glimmers, his destin'd funeral pyre! 
Heap'd by his own, his comrades' hands, 

Of every wood of odorous breath, 
There, by the Fire-God's shrine it stands, 

Ready to fold in radiant death 
The few still left of those who swore 
To perish there, when hope was o'er— 
The few, to whom that couch of flame, 
Which rescues them from bonds and shame 1 , 
Is sweet and welcome as the bed 
For their own infant Prophet spread, 
When pitying Heav'n to roses turn'd 
The death flames that beneath him burn'dlf 

With watchfulness tlie maid attends 
His rapid glance, where'er it bends — 

* Jesus. fc 

j - The Ghebers say that when \braham, their great Pro- 
phet, was thrown into the fire by order of Ximrod, the flame 
turned instantly into " a bed of roses, where the child sweet- 
ly reposed." — Tavernier. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 221 

Why shoothis eyes such awful beams? 
What plans he now? what thinks or dreams? 
Alas! why stands he musing- here, 
When every moment teems with fear? 
iC Hafed, my own beloved Lord," 
She kneeling cries — " first, last ador'd! 
44 If in that soul thou'st ever felt 

" Half what thy lips impassion'd swore, 
M Here, on my knees that never knelt 

" To any but their God before, 
" I pray thee, as thou lov'st me, fly — 
u Now, now — ere yet their blades are nigh. 
v < Oh haste — the bark that bore me hither 

" Can waft us o'er yon darkening- sea 
" East — west — alas, I care not whither, 
-* So thou art safe, and I with thee! 
• c Go where we will, this hand in thine, 

" Those eyes before me smiling thus, 
M Through g-ood and ill, through storm and shine, 

" The world's a world of love for us! 
" On some calm blessed shore we'll dwell, 
" Where 'tis no crime to love too toII; — 
" Where thus to worship tenderly 
" An erring child of light like thee 
61 Will not be sin — or, if it be, 
" Where we may weep our faults away, 
" Together kneeling, night and day, 
" Thou, for my sake, at Alla's shrine, 
" And I — at any God's for thine!" 
T 2 



22£ LALLA R00KH. 

Wildly these passionate words she spoke — - 
Then hung* her head, and wept for shame; 
Sobbing, as if a heart-string* broke 

With every deep-heav'd sob that came. 
While he, young", warm— oh! wonder not 
If, for a moment, pride and fame, 
His oath— his cause — that shrine of flame, 
And Iran's self are all forgot 
For her whom at his feet he see's, 
Kneeling in speechless agonies, 
No, blame him not, if Hope awhile 
Dawn'd in his soul, and threw her smile 
O'er hours to come — o'er days and nights, 
Wing'd with those precious, pure delights 
Which she, who bends all beauteous there, 
Was born to kindle and to share! 
A tear or two, which, as he bow'd 

To raise the suppliant, trembling stole, 
First warn'd him of this dangerous cloud 

Of softness passing o'er his soul. 
Starting, he brush'd the drops away, 
Unworthy o'er that cRek to stray; 
Like one who, on the morn of fight, 
Shakes from his sword the dew of night, 
That had but dimm'd, not stain'd its light 

Yet, though subdued, th' unnerving thrill, 
Its warmth, its weakness linger'd still 



THE FIRE -WORSHIPPERS. £23 

So touching in each look and tone, 
That the fond, fearing-, hoping maid 
Half counted on the flight she pray'd, 

Half thought the hero's soul was grown 

As soft, as yielding as her own, 
And smil'd and bless'd him, while he said, 
" Yes — if there be some happier sphere, 
" Where fadeless truth like ours is dear; 
u If there be any land of rest 

" For those who love and ne'er forget, 
" Oh! comfort thee — for safe and blest 

" We'll meet in that calm region yet!" 

Scarce had she time to ask her heart 
If good or ill these words impart, 
When the rous'd youth impatient flew 
To the tower- wall, where, high in view, 
A ponderous sea-horn* hung, and blew 
A signal, deep and dread as those 
The storm-fiend at his rising blows. 
Full well his Chieftains, sworn and true 
Through life and death, that signal knew; 
For 'twas the appointed warning-blast, 
Th' alarm, to tell when hope was past, 
And the tremendous death-die cast! 

* "The shell called Siiankos, common to India, Africa, 
and the Mediterranean, and still used in many parts as a trum- 
pet for blowing alarms or giving signals: it sends forth a deep 
and hollow sound." — Pennant* 



224 LALLA ROOKH. 

And there, upon the mouldering tower, 
Has hung this sea-horn many an hour, 
Ready to sound o'er land and sea 
That dirge-note of the brave and free. 

They came — his Chieftains at the call 
Came slowly round, and with them all — 
Alas, how few! the worn remains 
Of those who late o'er Kerman's plains 
Went gaily prancing to the clash 

Of Moorish zel and tymbalon, 
Catching new hope from every flash 

Of their long lances in the sun — 
And, as their coursers charg'd the wind. 
And the white ox-tails stream'd behind,* 
Looking, as if the steeds they rode 
Were wing'd, and every Chief a God! 
How fall'n, how alter'd now! how wan 
Each scarr'd and faded visage shone, 
As round the burning shrine they came; 

How deadly was the glare it cast, 
As mute they paus'd before the flame 

To light their torches as they pass'd! 

* " The finest ornament for the horses is made of six large 
flying tassels of long white hair, taken out of the tails of wild 
oxen, that are to be found in some places of the Indies."— 

Thevenot. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 225 

^Twas silence all — the youth had plann'd 
The duties of his soldier-band; 
And each detcrmin'd brow declares 
His faithful Chieftains well know theirs. 

But'niinutes speed — night gems the skies — 
And oh how soon, ye blessed eyes, 
That look from heav'n, ye may behold 
Sight* that will turn vour star-fires cold.' 
Breathless with awe, impatience, hope, 
The maiden sees the veteran group 
Her litter silently prepare, 

And lay it at her trembling feet; 
And now the youth, with gentle care, 

Has plac'd her in the shelter'd seat, 
And press'd her hand — that lingering press 

Of hands, that for the last time sever, 
Of hearts, whose pulse of happiness, 

When that hold breaks, is dead for ever* 
And yet to her this sad caress 

Gives hope— so fondly hope can err! 
'Twas joy, she thought, joy's mute excess— 

Their happy flight's dear harbinger; 
-Twas warmth — assurance — tenderness — 

'Twas any thing but leaving her. * 

" Haste, haste!" she cried, " the clouds grow dark, 
" But still, ere night, we'll* reach the bark; 



226 LALLA ROOKH. 

" And, by to-morrow's dawn — oh bliss! 

" With thee upon the sunbright deep, 
f Far off, I'll but remember this, 

" As some dark vanish'd dream of sleep! 
u And thou — " but ha! — he answers not — 

Good Heav'n! — and does she go alone? 
She now has reach'd that dismal spot, 

Where, some hours since, his voice's tone 
Had come to soothe her fears and ills, 
Sweet as the Angel Israfil's,! 
When every leaf on Eden's tree 
Is trembling to his minstrelsy — 
Yet now — oh now, he is not nigh — 

" Hafed! my Hafed!— if it be 
" Thy will, thy doom this night to die, 

" Let me but stay to die with thee, 
c< And I will bless thy loved name, 
" 'Till the last life-breath leave this frame. 
" Oh! let our lips, our cheeks be laid 
" But near each other while they fade; 
" Let us but mix our parting breaths, 
c< And I can die ten thousand deaths! 
" You too, who hurry me away 
" So cruelly one moment stay — 
" Oh! stay— one moment is not much — 
cl He yet may come — for him I pray — 

f "The Angel Israfil, who has the most melodious voice 
of all God's creatures"— Sale. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 227 

" Hafed! dear Hafed! — " all the way 
In wild lamentings, that would touch 
A heart of stone, she shriek'd his name 
To the dark woods— no Hafed came: 
No — hapless pair! you've looked your last; 

Your hearts should both have broken then: 
The dream is o'er— your doom is cast— - 

You'll never meet on earth again! 

Alas for him, who hears her cries! 

Still half-way down the steep he stands, 
Watching- with fix'd and feverish eyes 

The glimmer of those burning brands, 
That down the rocks, with mournful ray, 
Light all he loves on earth away! 
Hopeless as they who, far at sea, 

By the cold moon have just consign'd 
The corse of one, lov'd tenderly, 

To the bleak flood they leave behind; 
And on the deck still lingering stay, 
And long look back, with sad delay, 
To watch the moonlight on the wave, 
That ripples o'r that cheerless grave. 

But see— he starts — what heard he then? 
That dreadful shout!— across the glen 
From the land side it comes, and loud 
Rings through the chasm; as if the crowd 



22B LALLA ROOKH 

Of fearful things, that haunt that dell, 

Its Gholes and Dives and shapes of hell 

Had all in one dread howl broke out, 

So loud, so terrible that shout! 

" They come — the Moslems come!"— he cries. 

His proud soul mounting" to his eyes — 

" Now, Spirits of the brave, who roam 

" Enfranchis'd through yon starry dome. 

" Rejoice — for souls of kindred fire 

" Are on the wing to join your choir!" 

He said — and, light as bridegrooms bound 

To their young loves, reclimbed the steep 
Andgain'd the shrine— his Chiefs stood round— 

Their swords, as with instinctive leap, 
Together, at that cry accurst, 
Had from their sheaths,, like sunbeams burst. 
And hark!— again-— again it rings; 
Near and more near its echoings 
Peal through the chasm — oh! who that then 
Had seen those listening warrior-men, 
With their swords grasp'd, their eyes of flame 
Turn'd on their Chief— -could doubt the shame, 
Th' indignant shame with which they thrill 
To hear those shouts and yet stand still? 

He read their thoughts — they were his own — 
" What! while our arms can wield these blades, 

" Shall we die tamely? die alone? 
" Without one victim to our shades } 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 229 

" One Moslem heart where, buried deep, 
" The sabre from its toil may sleep? 
« No — God of Iran's burning skies! 
'* Thou scorn'st th' inglorious sacrifice. 
" No — though of all earth's hope bereft, 
11 Life, swords and vengeance still are left. 
" We'll make yon valley's reeking caves 
" Live in the awe-struck minds of men. 
" 'Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves 
" Tell of the Ghebers' bloody glen. 
" Follow, brave hearts! — this pile remains 
" Our refuge still from life and chains; 
" But his the best, the holiest bed, 
" Who sinks entomb'd in Moslem dead!' 

Down the precipitous rocks they sprung, 
While vigour, more than human, strung 
Each arm and heart. — Th' exulting foe 
Still through the dark defiles below, 
Track'd by his torches' lurid fire, 

Wound slow, as through Golconda's valei 
The mighty serpent, in his ire, 

Glides on with glittering, deadly trail. 
No torch the Ghebers need — so well 
They know each mystery of the dell, 
So oft have, in their wanderings, 
Cross'd the wild race that round them dwell,. 

f V. Hoole upon the Story of Siubad. 



230 LALLA R00KH. 

The very tigers from their delves 
Look out, and let them pass , as things 
Untam'd and fearless like themselves! 

There was a deep ravine, that lay 

Yet darkling in the Moslem's way; 

Fit spot to make invaders rue 

The many fall'n before the few. 

The torrents from that morning's sky 

Had fill'd the narrow chasm breast-high, 

And, on each side, aloft and wild, 

Huge cliffs and toppling crags were piFd, 

The guards with which young Freedom linet 

The pathways to her mountain shrines. 

Here, at this pass, the scanty band 

Of Iran's last avengers stand; 

Here wait, in silence like the dead. 

And listen for the Moslem's tread 

So anxiously, the carrion-bird 

Above them flaps his wing unheard! 

They come— that plunge into the water 
Gives signal for the work of slaughter. 
Now, Ghebers now — if e'er your blades 

Had point or prowess, prove them now — 
Wo to the file that foremost wades! 

They come — a falchion greets each brow, 
And as they tumble, trunk on trunk, 
Beneath the gory waters sunk, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 231 

Still o'er their drowning* bodies press 
New victims quick and numberless; 
Till scarce an arm in Hafed's band, 

So fierce their toil, has power to stir, 
But listless from each crimson hand 

The sword hangs, clogg'd with massacre. 
Never was horde of tyrants met 
With bloodier welcome — never yet 
To patriot vengeance hath the sword 
More terrible libations pour'd! 
All up the dreary, long ravine, 
By the red, murky glimmer seen 
Of half-quench'd brands, that o'er the flood 
Lie scatter'd round and burn in blood, 
What ruin glares! what carnage swims! 
Heads, blazing turbans, quivering limbs, 
Lost swords that, dropp'd from many a hand, 
In that thick pool of slaughter stand; 
Wretches, who wading half on fire 

From the toss'd brands that round them fly, 
Twixt flood and flame, in shrieks expire; 

And some who, grasped by those that die.. 
Sink woundless with them, smother'd o'er 
In their dead brethren's gushing gore! 

But vainly hundreds, thousands bleed, 
Still hundreds, thousands more succeed; 
Countless as tow'rds some flame at night 
The North's dark insects wing their flight. 



232 LALLA ROOKH. 

And quench or perish in its light, 
To this terrific spot they pour- 
Till, bridg'd with Moslem bodies o'er, 
It bears aloft their slippery tread, 
And o'er the dying and the dead, 
Tremendous causeway! on they pass* 
Then hapless Ghebers, then, alas! 
What hope was left for you? for you, 
Whose yet warm pile of sacrifice 
Is smoking in their vengeful eyes — 
Whose swords how keen, how fierce they knew, 
And burn with shame to find how few, 
Crush'd down by that vast multitude, 
Some found their graves where first they stood; 
While some with hardier struggle died, 
And still fought on by Hafed's side, 
Who, fronting to the foe, trod back 
Tow'rds the high towers his gory track; 
And, as a lion, swept away 

By sudden swell of Jordan's pride 
From the wild covert where he lay,* 

Long battles with th' o'erwhelming tide, 

* " In this thicket upon the banks of the Jordan several 
sorts of wild beasts are wont to harbour themselves, whose 
being washed out of the covert by the overflowings of the* 
river gave occasion to that allusion of Jeremiah, he shall 
come up like a lion from the swelling of Jordan" — Maun* 
dreWs Aleppo, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 233 

So fought he back with fierce delay, 
And kept both foes and fate at bay! 

But whither now? their track is lost, 

Their prey escap'd — guide, torches gone — 
By torrent-beds and labyrinths crost, 

The scattered crowd rush blindly on — 
" Curse on those tardy lights that wind," 
They panting cry, " so far behind — 
" Oh for a bloodhound's precious scent, 
" To track the way the Gheber went!" 
Vain wish— confusedly along 
They rush, more desperate as more wrong; 
Till, wilder'd by the far-off lights, 
Yet glittering up those gloomy heights, 
Their footing, maz'd and lost, they miss. 
And down the darkling precipice 
Are dash'd into the deep abyss; 
Or midway hang, impal'd on rocks, 
A banquet, }^et alive, for flocks 
Of ravening vultures, — while the dell 
Re-echoes with each horrible yell. 

Those sounds— -the last, to vengeance dear. 
That e'er shall ring in Hafed's ear, 
Now reach'd him, as aloft, alone, 
Upon the steep way breathless thrown. 
He lay beside his reeking blade, 

Resigned, as if life's task were o'er, 
u 2 



234 LALLA ROOKH. 

Its last blood -offering amply paid, 

And Iran's self could claim no more. 
One only thought, one lingering beam 
Now broke across his dizzy dream 
Of pain and weariness — 'twas she 

His heart's pure planet, shining yet 
Above the waste of memory, 

When all life's other lights were set. 
And never to his mind before 
Her image such enchantment wore. 
It seem'd as if each thought that stain'd, 

Each fear that chill'd their loves was past. 
And not one cloud of earth remain'd 

Between him and her glory cast;'— * 
As if to charms, before so bright, 

New grace from other worlds was given, 
And his soul saw her by the light 
Now breaking o'er itself from heaven! 

A voice spoke near him — 'twas the tone 
Of a lov'd friend, the only one 
Of all his warriors, left with life 
From that short night's tremendous strife. — 
" And must we then, my Chief, die here? 
" Foes round us, and the Shrine so near!" 
These words have rous'd the last remains 

Of life within him — " what! not yet 
" Beyond the reach of Moslem chains!" 

The thought could make ev'n Death forget 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 235 

His icy bondage — with a bound 
He spring's, all bleeding-, from the ground, 
And grasps his comrade's arm, now grown 
Ev'n feebler, heavier than his own, 
And up the painful pathway leads, 
Death gaining on each step he treads. 
Speed them, thou God, who heard'st their vow! 
They mount — they bleed — oh save them now — 
The crags are red they've clamber'd o'er, 
The rock- weed's dripping with their gore — 
Thy blade too, Hafed, false at length, 
Now breaks beneath thy tottering strength — 
Haste, haste — the voices of the Foe 
Come near and nearer from below — 
One effort more — thank Heav'n! 'tis past, 
They've gain'd the topmost steep at last. 
And now they touch the temple's walls, 

Now Hafed sees the Fire divine — 
When, lo! — his weak, worn comrade falls 

Dead on the threshold of the Shrine. 
" Alas, brave soul, too quickly fled! 

" And must I leave thee withering here, 
u The sport of every ruffian's tread, 

" The mark for every coward's spear? 
j< No, by yon altar's sacred beams!" 
He cries, and with a strength that seems 
Not of this world, uplifts the frame 
Of the fall'n Chief, and tow'rds the flame 
Bears him along; — with death-damp hand 
The corpse upon the pyre he lays, 



236 LALLA R00KH. 

Then tights the consecrated biand, 

And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze 
Like lightning bursts o'er Oman's Sea. — 
" Now, Freedom's God! I come to Thee," 
The youth exclaims, and with a smile 
Of triumph vaulting on the pile, 
In that last effort, ere the fires 
Have harm'd one glorious limb, expires! 
What shriek was that on Oman's tide? 

It came from yonder drifting bark, 
That just has caught upon her side 

The death-light — and again is dark, 
It is the boat — ah, why delay'd — 
That bears the wretched Moslem maid; 
Confided to the watchful care 

Of a small veteran band, with whom 
Their generous Chieftain would not share 

The secret of his final doom; 
But hop'd when Hinda, safe and free. 

Was render'd to her father's eyes, 
Their pardon, full and prompt, would be 

The ransom of so dear a prize. — 
Unconscious, thus, of Hafed's fate, 
And proud to guard their beauteous freight. 
Scarce had they clear'd the surfy waves 
That foam around those frightful caves, 
When the curst war-whoops, known so well, 
Came echoing from the distant dell — 
Sudden each oar, upheld and still, 

Hung dripping o'er the vessel's side, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 237 

And, driving* at the current's will, 

They rock'd along- the whispering- tide, 
While every eye, in mute dismay, 
Was tow'rd that fatal mountain turn'd, 
Where the dim altar's quivering- ray 

As yet all lone and tranquil burn'd. 

Oh! tis not, Hinda, in the power 

Of Fancy's most terrific touch 

To paint thy pang's in that dread hour— 

Thy silent agony — 'twas such 
As those who feel could paint too well. 
But none e'er felt and liv'd to tell ! 
'Twas not alone the dreary state, 
Of a lorn spirit, crush'd by fate, 
When, thoug-h no more remains to dread, 

The panic chill will not depart; 
When> thoug-h the inmate hope be dead, 

Her ghost still haunts the mouldering- heart. 
No — pleasures, hopes, affections gone, 
The wretch may bear, and yet live on, 
Like things within the cold rock found 
Alive when all's cong-eal'd around. 
But there's a blank repose in this, 
A calm stag-nation that were bliss 
To the keen, burning- harrowing pain 
Now felt through all thy breast and brain — 
That spasm of terror, mute, intense, 
That breathless, agoniz'd suspense, 



238 LALLA ROOKM. 

From whose hot throb, whose deadly aching 
The heart has no relief but breaking! 

Calm is the wave — heaven's brilliant lights 

Reflected dance beneath the prow; 
Time was when, on such lovely nights, 

She who is there, so desolate now, 
Could sit, all cheerful, though alone, 

And ask no happier joy than seeing 
That star-light o'er the waters thrown — 
No joy but that to make her blest, 

And the fresh, buoyant sense of Being 
That bounds in Youth's yet careless breast, 
Itself a star, not borrowing light, 
But in its own glad essence bright. 
How different now! — but, hark, again, 
The yell of havoc ring*-. — brave men! 
In vain, with beating hearts, ye stand 
On the bark's edge — in vain each hand 
Half draws the falchion from its sheath; 
AlPs o'er — in rust your blades may lie; 
He, at whose word they've scatter'd death, 

Ev'n now, this night, himself must die! 
Well may ye look to yon dim tower, 

And ask, and wondering guess what means 
The battle-cry at this dead hour — 

Ah! she could tell you, she who leans 
Unheeded there, pale, sunk, aghast, 
With brow against the dew-cold mast — 

Too well she knows her more than life, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 239 

Her soul's first idol and its last, 

Lies bleeding in that murderous strife. 

But see — what moves upon the height? 
Some signal ! — 'tis a torch's light. 

What bodes its solitary glare? 
In gasping silence tow'rd the shrine 
All eyes are turn'd — thine, Hinda, thine 

Fix their last failing life beams there. 
'Twas but a moment — fierce and high 
The death-pile blaz'd into the sky, 
And far away o'er rock and flood 

Its melancholy radiance sent, 
| While Hafed, like a vision, stood 
iReveal'd before the burning pyre, 
Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire 

Shrin'd in its own grand element! 
■ 'Tis he!" — the shuddering maid exclaims. 

But, while she speaks, he's seen no more; 
High burst in air the funeral flames, 

And Iran's hopes and hers are o'er! 

One wi!d, heart-broken shriek she gave — 

Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze, 

Where still she fix'd her dying gaze, 
Ind, gazing, sunk into the wave, 
Deep, deep, where never care or paiu 
Shall reach her innocent heart again! 



24® fcALLA ROOKH. 



Farewell — farewell to thee, Araby's daughter? 

(Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea) 
No pearl ever lay, under Oman's green water, 

More pure in its shell than thy spirit in thee. 

Oh! fair as the sea-flower close to thee growing, 
How light was thy heart till love's wtichery came, 

Like the wind of the south* o'er a summer lute blowing r 
And hush'd all its music and wither 'd its frame! 

But long upon Araby's green sunny highlands, 
Shall maids and their lovers remember the doom 

Of her who lies sleeping among the Pearl Islands, 
With nought but the sea-starf to light up her tomb. 

And still, when the merry date season is burning, 
And calls to the palm-groves the young and the old,| 

* " This wind (the Samoor) so softens the strings of lutes, 
that they can never be tuned while it lasts."— Stephen's Per- 
sia. 

f " One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persian 
Gulf is a fish which the English call Star-fish. It is circular, 
and at night very luminous, resembling the full moon sur- 
rounded by rays "- -Mirta Aba Taleb. 

+ " For a description of the merriment of the date-time, 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 241 

The happiest there, from their pastime returning", 
At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. 

The young- village maid, when with flowers she dresses 
Her dark flowing- hair for some festival day, 

Will think of thy fate, till neglecting her tresses, 
She mournfully turns from the mirror away. 

Now shall Iran, belov'd of her hero! forg-et thee, — 
Though tyrants wateh over her tears as they start* 

Close, close by the side of that hero she'll set thee, 
Embalm'd in the innermost shrine of her heart. 

Farewell — be it ours to embellish thy pillow 

With every thing- beauteous that grows in the deep: 

Each flower of the rock and each gem of the billow 
Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep. 

Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber 
That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept;* 

With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreath'd chamber; 
We Peris of ocean, by moonlight have slept. 

of their work, their dances, and their return home from 
the palm-groves at the end of autumn with the fruits, v. Kemp- 
fer f Jlmoenitat. Exot. 

* Some naturalists have imagined that amber is a concre- 
tion of the tears of birds.— v. Trevoux 9 Chambers. 

X 



242 LALLA ROOKH. 

We'll dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling, 
And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head; 

We'll seek where the sands of the Caspian* are spark- 
ling, 
And gather their gold to strew over thy bed. 

Farewell — farewell — until Pity's sweet fountain 
Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave, 

They'll weep for the Chieftain who died on that moun- 
tain, 
They'll weep for the Maiden who sleeps in this wave. 

* "The bay Kieselarke, which is otherwise called the 
Golden Bay, the sand whereof shines as fire."— Struy. 



LALLA ROOKn. 243 



1HE singular placidity with which Fadladeen had 
listened, during the latter part of this obnoxious story, 
surprised the Princess and Feramorz exceedingly; and 
even inclined towards him the hearts of these unsuspici- 
ous young persons, who little knew the source of a com- 
placency so marvellous. The truth was he had been 
organizing, for the last few days, a most laudable plan of 
persecution against the Poet, in consequence of some 
passages that had fallen from him on the second evening 
of recital, which appeared to this worthy Chamberlain 
to contain language and principles, for which nothing 
short of the summary criticism of the Chabuk* would be 
advisable. It was his intention, therefore, immediately 
on their arrival at Cashmere, to give information to the 
King of Bucharia of the very dangerous sentiments of his 
minstrel; and if, unfortunately, that monarch did not act 
with suitable vigour on the occasion, (that is, if he did 
not give the Chabuk to Feramorz, and a place to Fad- 
ladeeiv,) there would be an end, he feared, of all legi- 
timate government in Bucharia. He could not help, 
however, auguring better both for himself and the cause 
of potentates in general; and it was the pleasure arising 
from these mingled anticipations that diffused such un- 
usual satifaction through his features, and made his eyes 

" The application of whips or roi\s"-*-Duboi8, 



244 LALLA ROOKH. 

shine out, like poppies of the desert, over the wide and 
lifeless wilderness of that countenance. 

Having decided upon the Poet's chastisement in this 
manner, he thought it but humanity to spare him the 
minor tortures of criticism. Accordingly, when they as- 
sembled next evening in the pavilion, and Lalla Rookh 
expected to see all the beauties of her bard melt away, 
one by one, in the acidity of criticism, like pearls in the 
cup of the Egyptian Queen, he agreeably disappointed 
her by merely saying, with an ironical smile, that the 
merits of such a poem deserved to be tried at a much 
higher tribunal; and then suddenly passing off into a 
panegyric upon all Mussulman sovereigns, more parti- 
cularly his august and Imperial master, Aurungzebe, the 
wisest and best of the descendants of Tirnur, who, among 
other great things he had done for mankind, bad given 
to him, Fadladeen, the very profitable posts of Betel- 
carrier and Taster of Sherbets to the Emperor, Chief 
Holder of the Girdle of beautiful Forms,* and Grand 
Nazia, or Chamberlain of the Haram. 

* Kerapfer mentions such in officer among the attendants 
of the King of Persia, and calls him "formae corporis esti- 
mator." Mis business was, at stated, periods to measure the 
ladies of the Haram by a sort of regulation-girdle, whose 
limits it was not thought graceful to exceed. If any of them 
outgrew this standard of shape, they were reduced by absti- 
nence till they came within its bounds. 



LALLA ROOKH. 245 

They were now not far from that Forbidden River,* 
bej'Ond which no pure Hindoo can pass; and were repos- 
ing" for a time in the rich valley of Hussun Abdaul which 
had always been a favourite resting-place of the Empe- 
rors in their annual migrations to Cashmere. Here often 
had the Light of the Faith, Jehanguire, wandered with 
his beloved and beautiful Nourmahal; and here would 
Lalla Rookh have been happy to remain for ever, giv- 
ing" up the throne of Bucharia and the world, for Fera- 
morz and love in this sweet lonely valley. The time was 
now fast approaching" when she must see him no longer, 
or see kim with eyes whose every look belonged to an- 
other; and there was a melancholy preciousness in these 
last moments, which made her heart cling" to them as it 
would to life. During the latter part of the journey, in- 
deed, she had sunk into a deep sadness, from which noth- 
ing but the presence of the young minstrel could awake 
her. Like those lamps in tombs, which only light up 
when the air is admitted, it was only at his approach that 
her eyes became smiling" and animated. But here, in 
this dear valley, every moment was an ag-e of pleasure; 
she saw him all day and was, therefore, all day happy, 
resembling, she often thought, that people of Zinge, who 
attribute the unfading cheerfulness they enjoy to one 
genial star that rises nightly over their heads. f 

* The Attock. 

j* The star Soheil, or Canopus. 
x2 



246 LALLA ROOBLH. 

The whole party, indeed, seemed in their liveliest 
mood during the few days they passed in this delightful 
solitude. The young attendants of the Princess, who 
were here allowed a freer range than they could safely 
be indulged with in a less sequestered place, ran wild 
among the gardens and bounded through the meadows, 
lightly as young roes over the aromatic plains of Tibet. 
While Fadladeen, beside the spiritual comfort he de- 
rived from a pilgrimage to the tomb of the Saint from 
whom the valley is named, had opportunities of gratify- 
ing, in a small way, his taste for victims, by putting to 
death some hundreds of those unfortunate little lizards, 
which all pious Mussulmans make it a point to kill; taking 
for granted, that the manner in which the creature hangs 
its head is meant as a mimicry of the attitude in which the 
Faithful say their prayers! 

About two miles from Hussum Abdaul were those 
Royal Gardens, which had grown beautiful under the 
care of so many lovely eyes, and were beautiful still, 
though those eyes could see them no longer. This place, 
with its flowers and its holy silence, interrupted only by 
the dipping of the wings of birds in its marble basins 
filled with the pure water of those hills, was to Lalla 
Bookh, all that her heart could fancy of fragrance, cool- 
ness, and almost heavenly tranquillity. As the Prophet 
said of Damascus, " it was too delicious;" and here, in 
listening to the sweet voice of Feramorz, or reading in 



LALLA ROOKTI. 247 

his eyes what yet he never dared to tell her, the most 
exquisite moments of her whole life were passed. One 
evening", when they had been talking of the Sultana 
Nourmahal, — the Light of the Haram,* who had so often 
wandered among these flowers, and fed with her own 
hands, in those marble basins, the small shining fishes of 
which she was so fond,f — the youth, in order to delay 
the moment of separation, proposed to recite a short 
story, or rather rhapsody, of which this adored Sultana 
was the heroine. It related, he said, to the reconcile- 
ment of a sort of lovers' quarrel, which took place be- 
tween her and the Emperor during a Feast of Roses at 
Cashmere; and would remind the Princess of that differ- 
ence between Haroun-al-Raschid and his fair mistress 
Marida, which was so happily made up by the sweet 
strains of the musician, Moussaii. As the story was 
chiefly to be told in song", and Feramorz had unluckily 
forgotten his own lute in the valley, he borrowed the 
vina of Lalla Rookh's little Persian slave, and thus 
began: — 

* Nourmahal signifies Light of the Haram. She was af- 
terwards called Nourjehan, or the Light of the World, 
f V. note, p. 193. 



248 LALLA ROOKH. 



WHO has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere, 
With its roses the brighest that earth ever gave,* 

Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear 

As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave? 

Oh! to see it at sunset, when warm o'er the Lake 

Its splendour at parting a summer eve throws, 
Like a bride, full of blushes, when ling' ring to take 

A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes! 
When the shrines through the foliage are gleaming half 

shown, 
And each hallows the hour by some rites of its own. 
Here the music of pray'r from a minaret swells, 

Here the Magian his urn full of perfume is swinging, 
And here, at the altar, a zone of sweet bells 

Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is ringing.f 
Or to see it by moonlight, when mellowly shines 
The light o'er its palaces, gardens and shrines; 
When the water-falls gleam like a quick fall of stars, 
And the nightingale's hymn from the Isle of Chenars 
Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet 

* u The rose of Kashmire for its brilliancy and delicacy 
of odour has long been proverbial in the East." — Forster. 

f <( Tied round her waist the zone of bells, that sounded 
with ravishing melody." — Song of Jayadeva. 



THE LIftHT OF THE HARAM. 24$ 

Prom the cool, shining walks where the young people 

meet, 
Or at morn, when the magic of daylight awakes 
A new wonder each minute, as slowly it breaks, 
Hills, cupolas, fountains, calPd forth every one 
Out of darkness, as they were just born of the Sun. 
When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day, 
From his Haram of night-flowers stealing away; 
And the wind, full of wantonness, woos like a lover 
The young aspen-trees* till they tremble all over. 
When the East is as warm as the light of first hopes, 

And day, with his banner of radiance unfurl'd, 
Shines in through the mountainous portalf that opes, 

Sublime, from that Valley of bliss to the world! 

But never yet, by night or day, 
In dew of spring or summer's ray, 
Did the sweet Valley shine so gay 
As now it shines — all love and light, 
Visions by day and feasts by night! 
A happier smile illumes each brow, 

* " The little isles in the Lake of Cachemire are set with 
arbours and large-leaved aspen-trees, slender and tall "— - 
Bemier. 

f " The Tuckt Suliman, the name bestowed by the Maho- 
metans on this hill, forms one side of a grand portal to the 
Lake. " — Forster. 



250 LALLA ROOKH, 

With quicker spread each heart uncloses, 
And all is ecstacy, — for now 

The Valley holds its Feast of Roses.* 
That joyous time, when pleasures pour 
Profusely round, and in their shower 
Hearts open, like the Season's Rose, 

The Flowret of a hundred leaves, f 
Expanding- while the dew-fall flows, 

And every leaf its balm receives! 

'Twas when the hour of evening came 

Upon the Lake, serene and cool, 
When Day had hid his sultry flame 

Behind the palms of Baiiamoule.J 
When maids began to lift their heads, 
Refresh'd, from their embroiderM beds, 
Where they had slept the sun away, 
And wak'd to moonlight and to play. 
All were abroad — the busiest hive 
On Bela's§ hills is less alive 
When saffron beds are full in flower, 
Than look'd the Valley in that hour. 

* " The Feast of Roses continues the whole time of their 
remaining in bloom." — v. Pietro de la Valle. 

f " Gul sad berk, the Rose of a hundred leaves. I believe 
a particular species.'* — Ouseley. 

t Bernier. 

§ A place mentioned in the Toozek Jehangeery, or Me- 
moirs of Jehanguire, where there is an account of the beds 
of saffron flowers about Cashmere. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 251 

A thousand restless torches play'd 

Through every grove and island shade; 

A thousand sparkling lamps were set 
I On every dome and minaret; 
rAnd fields and pathways, far and near, 

Were lighted by a blaze so clear, 

That you could see, in wandering round, 
J The smallest rose-leaf on the ground. 
j Yet did the maids and matrons leave 

Their veils at home, that brilliant eve; 

And there were glancing eyes about, 

And cheeks, that would not dare shine out 

In open day, but thought they might 

Look lovely then, because 'twas night! 

And all were free, and wandering, 
And all exclaim'd to all they met 

That never did the summer bring 
So gay a Feast of Roses yet; 

The moon had never shed a light 

So clear as that which bless'd them there; 

The roses ne'er shone half so bright, 
Nor they themselves look'd half so fair. 

And what a wilderness of flowers! 
It seem'd as though from all the bowers 
And fairest fields of all the year, 
fThe mingled spoil were scatter'd here. 
The Lake too like a garden breathes, 
With the rich buds that o'er it lie. 



252 JLALLA ROOKH. 



J 



As if a shower of fairy wreaths 
Had fall'n upon it from the sky! 

And then the sounds of joy, the beat 

Of tabors and of dancing feet; 

The minaret-cryer's chaunt of glee 

Sung from his lighted gallery,* 

And answer'd by a ziraleet 

From neighbouring Haram, wild and sweet: 

The merry laughter, echoing 

From gardens, where the silken swing 

Wafts some delighted girl above 

The top leaves of the orange grove; 

Or, from, those infant groups at play 

Among the tentsf that line the way, 

Flinging, unaw'd by slave or mother, 

Handfuls of roses at each other! 
And the sounds from the Lake, the low whisp'ring in 
boats, 
As they shoot through the moonlight; the dipping of 
oars, 

• " It is the custom among the women to employ the 
Maazeen to chaunt from the gallery of the nearest minaret, 
■which on that occasion is illuminated, and the women assem- 
bled at the house respond at intervals with a ziraleet or 
jo^ ous chorus.*' — JRussel 

f * c \t the keeping of the Feast of Roses we beheld an 
infinite number of tents pitched, with such a crowd of men, 
women, boys and girls, with music, dances," &c. &c. — 
Herbert, 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 253 

And the wild, airy warbling that every where floats, 
Through the groves, round the islands, as if all the 
shores 
Like those of Kathay utterM music, and gave 
An answer in song to the kiss of esch wave!* 
But the gentlest of all are those sounds, full of feeling, 
That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing, 
Some lover, who knows all the heart-touching power 
Of a lute and a sigh in this magical hour. 
Oh! best of delights as it every where is 
To be near the lov'd One, what a rapture is his, 
Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may glide 
O'er the Lake of Cashmere, with that One by his side' 
If Woman can make the worst wilderness dear, 
Think, think what a Heav'n she must make of Cash- 
mere! 

So felt the magnificent Son of AcBAR,f 

When from power and pomp and the trophies of war 

He flew to that Valley, forgetting them all 

With the Light of the Haram, his young Nourmahai 

* " An old commentator of the Chou-King says, the an- 
cients having remarked that a current of water made some 
of the stones near its banks send forth a sound, they detach- 
ed some of them, and being charmed with the delightful 
sound they emitted, constructed King or musical instruments 
of them " — Grosier. 

f Jehanguire was the son of the Great Acbar- 
Y 



256 LALLA ROOKH. 

When all around her is so bright, 

So like the visions of a trance, 

That one might think, who came by chance 

Into the vale this happy night, 

He saw that City of Delight* 

In Fairy-land, whose streets and towers 

Are made of gems and light and flowers! 

Where is the lov'd Sultana? where, 

When mirth brings out the young and fair, 

Does she, the fairest, hide her brow, 

In melancholy stillness now? 

Alas — how light a cause may move 

Dissension between hearts that love! 

Hearts that the world in vain has tried, 

And sorrow but more closely tied; 

That stood the storm, when waves were rough, 

Yet in a sunny hour fall off, 

Like ships that have gone down at sea, 

When heav'n was all tranquillity! 

A something, light as air — a look, 
A word unkind or wrongly taken — 

Oh! love, that tempests never shook, 
A breath, a touch like this has shaken. 
And ruder words will soon rush in 
To spread the breach that words begin; 

* The capital of Shadukiam. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 257 

And eyes forgel the gentle ray 
They wore in courtship's smiling 1 day; 
And voices lose the tone that shed 
A tenderness round all they said; 
Till fast declining-, one by one 
The sweetnesses of love are gone, 
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem 
Like broken clouds, or like the stream, 
That smiling left the mountain's brow, 

As though its waters ne'er could sever, 
Yet, ere it reach the plain below, 

Breaks into floods, that part for ever! 

Oh you that have the charge of Love, 

Keep him in rosy bondage bound, 
As in the Fields of Bliss above 

He sits, with flowrets fetter'd round;* 
Loose not a tie that round him clings, 
Nor ever let him use his wings; 
For ev'n an hour, a minute's flight 
Will rob the plumes of half their light. 
Like that celestial bird, whose nest 

Is found beneath far Eastern skies, 

* See the representation of the Eastern Cupid, pinioned 
closely round with wreaths of flowers, in Picart's Ceremo* 
nies Religieuses. 

Y 2 



258 LALLA ROOKH. 

Whose wings though radiant went at rest, 
Lose all their glory when he flies!* 

Some difference, of this dangerous kind, 

By which, though light, the links that hind 

The fondest hearts may soon be riven; 

Some shadow in love's summer heaven, 

Which, though a fleecy speck at first, 

May yet in awful thunder burst; 

Such cloud it is, that now hangs over 

The heart of the Imperial Lover, 

And far hath banish'd from his sight 

His Nourmahal, his Haram's Light! 

Hence is it, on this happy night, 

When Pleasure through the fields and groves 

Has let loose all her world of loves, 

And every heart has found its own, 

He wanders, joyless and alone, 

And weary as that bird of Thrace, 

Whose pinion knows no resting-placef 

* " \mong the birds of Tonquin is a species of a gold- 
finch, which sings so melodiously that it is called the Celes- 
tial Bird. Its wings, when it is perched, appear variegated 
with beautiful colours, but when it flies they lose all their 
splendour." Grosier. 

f " \s these birds on the Bosphorus are never known to 
rest, they are called by the French Mes ames damnees." 
fialloway. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 259 

In vain the loveliest cheeks and eyes 
This Eden of the earth supplies 

Come crowding" round — the cheeks are pale, 
The eyes are dim — though rich the spot 
With ever) flow'r this earth has got, 

What is it to the nightingale; 
If there his darling" rose is not?f 
In vain the Valley's smiling throng 
Worship him, as he moves along; 
He heeds them not — one smile of hers 
Is worth a world of worshippers. 
They but the Star's adorers are, 
She is the heav'n that lights the Star! 

Hence is it too that Nourmahal, 

Amid the luxuries of this hour, 
Far from the joyous festival, 

Sits in her own sequester'd bower; 
With no one near, to soothe or aid, 
But that inspired and wondrous maid, 
Namouna, the Enchantress; — one, 
O'er whom his race the golden sun 
For unremember'd years has run, 

f " You may place a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs 
and flowers before the nightingale, yet he wishes not, in his 
constant heart, for more than the sweet breath of his beloved 
rose." Jamu 



260 LALLA ROOKH. 

Yet never saw her blooming brow 
Younger or fairer than 'tis now. 
Nay, rather, as the west-wind's sigh 
Freshens the flower it passes by, 
Time's wing but seem'd, in stealing o'er, 
To leave her lovelier than before. 
Yet on her smiles a sadness hung, 
And when, as oft, she spoke or sung 
Of other worlds, there came a light 
From her dark eyes so strangely bright, 
That all believ'd, nor man nor earth 
Were conscious of Namouna's birth! 

All spells and talismans she knew, 

From the great Mantra,* which around 
The Air's sublimer Spirits drew, 

To the gold gemsf of Afric, bound 
Upon the wandering Arab's arm, 
To keep him from the Siltim'sJ harm. 
And she had pledg'd her powerful art, 
Pledg'd it with all the zeal and heart 

* " He is said to have found the great J\£antra> spell or 
talisman, through which he ruled over the elements and spi- 
rits of all denominations." — Wilford. 

f " The gold jewels of Jinnie, which are called by the 
Arabs E! Herrez, from the supposed charm they contain." — 
Jackson. 

$ " A demon, supposed to haunt woods, &c. in a human 
shape.— Richardson. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 261 

Of one who knew, though high her sphere, 
What 'twas to lose a love so dear, 
To find some spell that should recall 
Her Selim'sj smile to Nourmahal! 

'Twas midnight — through the lattice, wreath'd 
With woodbine, many a perfume breath'd 
From plants that wake when others sleep, 
From timid jasmine buds, that keep 
Their odour to themselves all day, 
But, when the sun light dies away, 
Let the delicious secret out 
To every breeze that roams about; 
When thus Namouna: — " 'Tis the hour 
" That scatters spells on herb and flower, 
" And garlands might be gather'd now, 
" That, twin'd around the sleeper's brow, 
" Would make him dream of such delights, 

Such miracles and dazzling sights 
" As Genii of the Sun behold, 
■ At evening, from their tents of gold 
' Upon the horizon — where they play 
" Till twilight comes, and, ray by ray, 
" The sunny mansions melt away! 

Now too, a chaplct might be wreath'd 
" Of buds o'er which the moon has breath'd, 

§ The name of Jehanguire before his accession to the 
throne. 



262 LALLA ROOKH. 

" Which worn by her, whose love has stray 'd, 

" Might bring" some Peri from the skies , 
" Some sprite, whose very soul is made 

" Of flowrets' breaths and lovers' sighs, 

" And who might tell " 

"For me, for me;" 
Cried Nourmahal impatiently, 
" Oh! twine that wreath for me to-night." 
Then rapidly with foot as light 
As the young musk-roe's out she flew 
To cull each shining leaf that grew 
Beneath the moonlight's hallowing beams 
For this enchanted Wreath of Dreams. 
Anemones and Seas of Gold,* 

And new-blown lilies of the river, 
And those sweet flowrets, that unfold 
Their buds on Camadeva's quiver;f 
The tube-rose, with her silvery light, 
That in the Gardens of Malay 
Is call'd the Mistress of the Night,} 
So like a bride, scented and bright, 

* t( Heraasagara, or the Sea of Gold, with flowers of the 
brightest gold colour. — Sir W. Jones, 

f " This tree (the Nagacesara) is one of the most delight- 
ful on earth, and the delicious odour of its blossoms justly 
gives them a place in the quiver of Camadeva, or the God of 
Love."— Id. 

t " The Malayans style the tub-rose (Polianthes tuberosa) 
Sandal Malam, or the Mistress of the Night." — Pennant. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 263 

She comes out when the sun's away. 
Amaranths, such as crown the maids 
That wander through Zamara's shades;* 
And the white moon-flower, as it shows 
On Serendib's high crags to those 
Who near the isle at evening sail, 
Scenting her clove-trees in the gale; 
In short all flowrets and all plants, 

Prom the divine Amrita tree,f 

That blesses heaven's inhabitants 

With fruits of immortality , 
Down to the basil tuftj that waves 
Its fragant blossom over graves, 

And to the humble rosemary, 
Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed 
To scent the desert^ and the dead, 

• The people of the Batta country in Sumatra (of which 
Zamara is one of the ancient names) " when not engaged in 
war, lead an idle, inactive life, passing the day in playing on 
a kind of flute, crowned with garlands of flowers, among 
which the globe amaran thus, a native of the country, mostly 
prevails." — Marsden. 

f " The largest and richest sort (of the Jumbu or rose-ap- 
ple) is called Amrita or immortal, and the mythologists of Ti- 
bet apply the same word to a celestial tree bearing ambrosial 
fruit." — Sir W. Jones. 

i Sweet basil, called Ray ban in Persia, and generally 
found in church-yards. 

§ " In the Great Desert are found many stalks of lavender 
and rosemary."— Mat. Res, 



264 LALLA ROOKH 

All in that garden bloom, and all 
Are gather'd by young* Nourmahal, 
Who heaps her baskets with the flowers 

And leaves, till they can hold no more; 
Then to Namouna flies and showers 

Upon her lap the shining store. 

With what delight th' Enchantress views 

So many buds, bath'd with the dews 

And beams of that bless 'd hour' — her glance 

Spoke something, past all mortal pleasures. 
As, in a kind of holy trance, 

She hung above those fragrant treasures, 
Bending to drink their balmy airs, 
As if she mix'd her soul with theirs. 
And 'twas, indeed, the perfume shed 
From flowers and scented flame that fed 
Her charm'd life — for none had e'er 
Beheld her taste of mortal fare, 
Nor ever in aught earthly dip, 
But the morn's dew, her roseate lip. 
Fill'd with the cool, inspiring smell, 
Th' Enchantress now begins her spell. 
Thus singing, as she winds and weaves 
In mystic form the glittering leaves: — 



I know where the wing'd visions dwell 
That around the night-bed play; 

I know each herb and flowret's bell, 
Where they hide their wings by day. 






THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 265 

Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The image of love, that nighty flies 

To visit the bashful maid, 
Steals from the jasmine flower, that sighs 

Its soul, like her, in the shade. 
The hope, in dreams, of a happier hour 

That alights on misery's brow, 
Springs out of the silvery -almond flower, 

That blooms on a leaflesss bough* 
Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The visions, that oft to worldly eyes 

The glitter of mines unfold; 
Inhabit the mountain herb,f that dyes 

The tooth of the fawn like gold. 
The phantom shapes — oh touch not them — 

That appal the murderer's sight, 
Lurk in the fleshly mandrake's stem, 

That shrieks when torn at night! 



* " The Almond tree, with white flowers, blossoms on the 
bare branches." — Hasselquist. 

f An herb on Mount Libanus, which is said to communi- 
cate a yellow golden hue to the teeth of the goats and other 
animals that graze upon it. 

z 



266 LALLA ROOKH. 

Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The dream of the injur'd, patient mind, 

That smiles at the wrongs of men, 
Is found in the bruis'd and wounded rind 
Of the cinnamon, sweetest then! 
Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 






No sooner was the flowery crown 

Plac'd on her head, than sleep came down, 

Gently as nights of summer fall, 

Upon the lids of Nourmahal; 

And, suddenly, a tuneful breeze, 

As full of small, rich harmonies 

As ever wind, that o'er the tents 

Of Azab* blew, was full of scents, 

Steals on her ear and floats and swells, 

Like the first air of morning" creeping 
Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells, 

Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping;! 

* The myrrh country. 

f " This idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown 
to the Greeks, who represent the young Nerites, one of the 
Cupids, as living in shells on the shores of the Red Sea"-— 
miford. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 267 

And now a Spirit form'd, 'twould seem, 

Of music and of light, so fair, 
So brilliantly his features beam, 

And such a sound is in the air 
Of sweetness, when he waves his wings, 
Hovers around her, and thus sings: — 



From Chindara's* warbling fount I come, 

CalPd by that moonlight garland's spell; 
From Chindara's fount, my fairy home, 

Where in music, morn and night, I dwell. 
Where lutes in the air are heard about, 

And voices are singing the whole day long, 
And every sigh the heart breathes out 
Is turn'd, as it leaves the lips, to song! 
Hither I come 
From my fairy home, 
And if there's a magic in Music's strain, 
I swear by the breath 
Of that moonlight wreath, 
Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 
For mine is the lay that lightly floats, 
And mine are the murmuring, dying notes, 
That fall as soft as snow on the sea, 
And melt in the heart as instantly! 

* " A fabulous fountain, where instruments are said to be 
constantly playing." — Richardson. 



268 LALLA ROOKH. 

And the passionate strain that, deeply going, 

Refines the bosom it trembles through, 
As the musk-wind, over the water blowing, 

Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too! 

Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway 
The Spirits of past Delight obey; — 
Let but the tuneful talisman sound, 
And they come, like Genii, hovering round. 
And mine is the gentle song, that bears 

From soul to soul, the wishes of love, 
As a bird, that wafts through genial airs 

The cinnamon seed from grove to grove.* 

'Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure 
The past, the present, and future of pleasure; 
When Memory links the tone that is gone 

With the blissful tone that's still in the ear; 
And hope from a heavenly note flies on 

To a note more heavenly still that is near! 

The warrior's heart, when touch 'd by me, 

Can as downy soft and as yielding be 

As his own white plume, that high amid death 

Through the field has shown — yet moves with a breath. 

• " The Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by car- 
rying the fruit of the cinnamon to different places, is a great 
disseminator of this valuable tree" — V. Brown's Illustr. 
Tab. 19. * 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 269 

And, oh how the eyes of Beauty glisten, 

When Music has reachM her inward soul, 
Like the silent stars, that wink and listen 
While Heav'n's eternal melodies roll! 

So, hither I come 

From my fairy home, 
And if there's a magic in^Tusic's strain, 

I swear by the breath 

Of that moonlight wreath, 
Thy lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 



'Tis dawn — at least that earlier dawn, 
Whose glimpses are again withdrawn,* 
As if the morn had wak'd, and then 
Shut close her lids of light again. 
And Nourmahal is up, and trying 

The wonders of her lute, whose strings — 
Oh bliss! — now murmur like the sighing 

From that ambrosial Spirit's wings! 
And, then her voice — 'tis more than human — 

Never, till now, had it been given 
To lips of any mortal woman 

To utter notes so fresh from heaven; 

* " They have two mornings, the Soobhi Kaziro, and the 
Soobhi Sadig, the false and the real day-break." — Waring. 
z 2 



270 LALLA ROOKH. 

Sweet as the breath of angel sighs, 

When angel sighs are most divine.-— 
" Oh! let it last till night," she cries, 

" And he is more than ever mine." 
And hourly she renews the lay, 

So fearful lest its heavenly sweetness 
Should, ere the evening, fade away, — 

For things so heavenly have such fleetness! 
But, far from fading, it but grows 
Richer, diviner as it flows; 
Till rapt she dwells on every string, 

And pours again each sound along, 
Like Echo, lost and languishing 

In love with her own wondrous song. 
That evening, (trusting that his soul 

Might be from haunting love releas'd 
By mirth, by music, and the bowl) 

Th' Imperial Selim held a Feast 
In his magnificent Shalima; — 
In whose Saloons, when the first star 
Of evening o'er the waters trembled, 
The Valley's loveliest all assembled; 
All the bright creatures that, like dreams, 
Glide through its foliage, and drink beams 
Of beauty from its founts and streams.* 
And all those wandering minstrel-maids, 
Who leave — how can they leave?— -the shades 

* " The waters of Cacherair are the more renowned from 
its being supposed that the Cachemirians are indebted for 
their beauty to them." — All Yezdi* 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 271 

Of that dear Valley, and are found 

Singing in gardens of the Southf 
Those songs, that ne'er so sweetly sound 

As from a young Cashmerian's mouth. 
There too the Haram's inmates smile; — 

Maids from the West, with sun-bright hair, 
And from the Garden of the Nile, 

Delicate as the roses these;— J 
Daughters of Love from Cyprus' rocks," 
With Paphian diamonds in their locks — $ 
Light Peri forms, such as there are 
On the gold meads of Candahar;|| 

j" u From him I received the following little Gazzel of 
Love Song, the notes of which he committed to paper from 
the voice of one of those singing girls of Cashmere, who 
wander from that delightful valley over the various parts of 
India." — Persian Miscellanies. 

+ "The roses of the Jinan Nile, or Garden of the Nile 
(attached to the Emperor of Morocco's Palace) are unequal- 
led, and matrasses are made of their leaves for the men of 
rank to recline upon." — Jackson. 

§ " On the side of a mountain near Paphos there is a ca- 
vern which produces the most beautiful rock crystal. On ac- 
count of its brilliancy it has been called the Paphian diamond." 
— JMariti. 

H " There is a part of Candahar, called Peria or Fairy 
Land." — Thevenot. Tn some of those countries to the north 
of India vegetable gold is supposed to be produced. 



272 LALLA R00KH. 

And they, before whose sleepy eyes, 

In their own bright Kathaian bowers, 
Sparkle such rainbow butterflies,f 

That they might fancy the rich flowers, 
That round them in the sun lay sighing, 
Had been by magic all set flying! 

Every thing young, every thing fair 
From East and West is blushing there, 
Except — except — oh Nourmahal! 
Thou loveliest, dearest of them all, 
The one, whose smile shone out alone, 
Amidst a world the only one! 
Whose light, among so many lights, 
Was like that star, on starry nights, 
The seaman singles from the sky, 
To steer his bark for ever by! 
Thou wert not there — so Selim thought, 

And every thing seem'd drear without thee; 
But ah! thou wert, thou wert — and brought 

Thy charm of song all fresh about thee. 
Mingling unnotic'd with a band 
Of lutanists from many a land, 

f " These are the butterflies, which are called in the Chi- 
nese language Flying Leaves. Some of them have such 
shining colours, and are so variegated, that they may be called 
flying flowers; and indeed they are always produced in the 
finest flower-gardens."— Dunn. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 273 

And veil'd by such a mask as shades 
The features of young Arab maids,* 
A mask that leaves but one eye free, 
To do its best in witchery, 
She rov'd, with beating heart, around, 

And waited, trembling, for the minute, 
When she might try if still the sound 

Of her lov'd lute had magic in it. 

The board was spread with fruits and wine; 
With grapes of gold, like those that shine 
On Casbin's hills;f — pomegranates full 

Of melting sweetness: and the pears 
And sunniest apples}; that Caubul 

In all its thousand gardens^ bears. 
Plantains, the golden and the green, 
Malaya's nectar'd mangusteen;1F 

* "The Arabian women wear black masks with little 
clasps, prettily ordered." — Carreri. Niebuhr mentions their 
showing but one eye in conversation, 

f "The golden grapes of Casbin." — Description of Persia. 

$ " The fruits exported from Caubul are apples, pears, 
pomegranates, &c." — Elphinstone. 

§ " We sat down under a tree, listened to the birds, and 
talked with the son of our Mehmaundar about our country 
and Caubul, of which he gave an enchanting account: that 
city and its 100,000 gardens, &c"--/c?. 

If "The Mangusteen, the most delicate fruit in the world; 
the pride of the Malay Islands."— Marsden. 



274 LALLA ROOKH. 

Prunes of Bokara, and sweet nuts 

From the far groves of Samarcand, 
And Basra dates, and apricots, 

Seed of the Sun,* from Iran's land; — 
With rich conserve of Visna cherries,f 
Of orange flowers, and of those berries 
That, wild and fresh, the young gazelles 
Feed on in Erac's rocky dells. J 
All these in richest vases smile, 

In baskets of pure santal-wood, 
And urns of porcelain from that islej 

Sunk underneath the Indian flood, 
Whence oft the lucky diver brings 
Vases to graee the halls of kings. 
Wines too, of every clime and hue, 
Around their liquid lustre threw; 
Amber Rosolli,1F — the bright dew 

* " A delicious kind of apricot, called by the Persians 
tokm-ek-shems, signifying sun's seed." — Descript. of Persia. 

•j* " Sweetmeats in a crystal cup, consisting of rose-leaves in 
conserve, with lemon or Visna cherry, orange flowers, &c." 
— Russell. 

i " Antelopes cropping the fresh berries of Erac." — The 
Mollakat, Poem of Tarafa. 

§ Mauri -ga- Si ma, an island near Formosa, supposed to have 
been sunk in the sea for the crimes of its inhabitants. The 
vessels which the fishermen and divers bring up from it are 
sold at an immense price in China and Japan. — v. Kempfer, 

If Persian Tales, 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 275 

From vineyards of the Green- Sea gushing; * 
And Shiras wine, that richly ran 

As if that jewel large and rare, 
The ruby, for which Kublai-Chan 
Offer'd a city's wealth,! was blushing 

Melted within the goblets there! 

And amply Selim quaffs of each, 

And seems resolv'd the floods shall reach 

His inward heart, — shedding around 

A genial deluge, as they run, 
That soon shall leave no spot undrown'd, 

For Love to rest his wings upon. 
He little knew how blest the boy 

Can float upon a goblet's streams, 
Lighting them with his smile of joy; — 

As bards have seen him, in their dreams, 
Down the blue Ganges laughing glide 

Upon a rosy lotus wreath,! 
Catching new lustre from the tide 

That with his image shone beneath. 

But what are cups, without the aid 
Of song to speed them as they flow? 

* The white wine of Kishma. 

f " The King of Zeilan is said to have the very finest 
ruby that was ever seen. Kublai-Khan sent and offered the 
value of a city for it, but the King answered he would not 
give it for the treasure of the world." — Marco Polo. 

V The Indians feign that Cupid was first seen floating down 
the Ganges on the Nymphaea Nelumbo. v. Pennant. 



276 LALLA ROOKH. 

And see— a lovely Georgian maid, 

With all the bloom, the freshen'd glow 
Of her own country maidens' looks, 
When warm they rise from Teflis' brooks;* 
And with an eye, whose restless ray, 

Full, floating dark — oh he, who knows 
His heart is weak, of heav'n should pray 

To guard him from such eyes as those!— 
With a voluptuous wildness flings 
Her snowy hand across the strings 
Of a syrinda,f and thus sings: — 



Come hither, come hither — by night and by day, 
We linger in pleasures that never are gone; 

Like the waves of the summer, as one dies away, 
Another as sweet and as shining comes on. 

And the Love that is o'er, in expiring, gives birth 
To a new one as warm, as unequall'd in bliss; 

And oh! if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this, it is this. 

Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their sigh 
As the flower of the Amra just op'd by a bee; J 

And precious their tears as that rain from the sky,$ 
Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. 

* Teflis is celebrated for its natural warm bath. v. Ebti 
Haukel. 

\ " The Indian Syrinda or guitar." — Symes. 

$ " Delightful are the flowers of the Amra trees on the 
mountain tops, while the murmuring bees pursue their volup- 
tuous toil." — Song of Jayadsva. 

§ " The Nisan or drops of spring rain, which they believe 
to produce pearls if they fall into shells." — Richa rdson. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 277 

Oh! think what the kiss and the smile must be worth, 
When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss; 
And own if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this, it is this. 

Here sparkles the nectar that, hallowed by love, 

Could draw down those angels of old from their sphere, 

Who for wine of this earthf left the fountains above, 
And forgot heav'n's stars for the eyes we have here. 

And, bless'd with the odour our goblet gives forth, 
What Spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss? 

For oh! if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this, it is this. 



The Georgian's song was scarcely mute, 

When the same measure, sound for sound, 
Was caught up by another lute, 

And so divinely breathed around, 
That all stood hush'd and wondering, 

And turn'd and look'd into the air, 
As if they thought to see the wing 

Of Israfil,J the Angel, there; — 
So pow'rfully on every soul 
That new, enchanted measure stole. 
While now a voice, sweet as the note 
Of the charm'd lute, was heard to float 

f For an account of the share which wine had in the fall 
of the angels, v. Mariti. 
\ The angel of Music. 

A a 



278 LALLA ROOKH. 

Along- its chords, and so entwine 

Its sound with theirs, that knew not whether 
The voice or lute was most divine, 

So wond'rously they went together: — 



There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told. 

When two, that are link'd in one heavenly tie, 
With heart never changing" and brow never cold, 

Love on through all ills, and love on till they die! 
One hour of a passion so sacred is worth 

Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss? 
And oh! if there be an Elysium on earth. 
It is this, it is this. 



'Twas not the air, twas not the words. 
But that deep magic in the chords 
And in the lips, that gave such power 
As Music knew not till that hour. 
At once a hundred voices said., 
" It is the mask'd Arabian maid!" 
While Selim, who had felt the strain 
Deepest of any, and had lain 
Some minutes rapt, as in a trance, 

After the fairy sounds were o'er, 
Too inly touch'd for utterance, 

Now motion'd with his hand for more:-*- 



Fly to the desert, fly with me, 
Our Arab tents are rude for thee; 
But oh! the choice what heart can doubt 
Of tents with love or thrones without? 



THE LIGHT OP THE HARAM. 279 

Our rocks are rough, but smiling" there 
Th' acacia waves her yellow hair, 
Lonely and sweet, nor lov'd the less 
For flowering in a wilderness. 

Our sands are bare, but down their slope 
The silvery-footed antelope 
As gracefully and gaily springs 
As o'er the marble courts of kings. 

Then come — thy Arab maid will be 
The lov'd and lone acacia tree, 
The antelope, whose feet shall bless 
With their light sound thy loneliness. 

Oh! there are looks and tones that dart 
An instant sunshine through the heart, 
As if the soul that minute caught 
Some treasure it through life had sought; 

As if the very lips and eyes 
Predestin'd to have all our sighs, 
And never be forgot again, 
Sparkled and spoke before us then! 

So come thy every glance and tone, 
When first on me they breath'd and shone; 
New as if brought from other spheres, 
Yet welcome as if lov'd for year! 

Then fly with me — if thou hast known 
No other flame, nor falsely thrown 



280 LALLA ROOKH. 

A gem away that thou hast sworn 
Should ever in thy heart be worn. 

Come, if the love thou hast for me 
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee, 
Fresh as the fountain under ground, 
When first 'tis by the lapwing found. * 

But if for me thou dost forsake 
Some other maid, and rudely break 
Her worshipp'd image from its base, 
To give to me the ruin'd place; — 

Then, fare thee well — I'd rather make 
My bower upon some icy lake 
When thawing suns begin to shine, 
Than trust to love so false as thine! 



There was a pathos in this lay, 

That, ev'n without enchantment's art, 
Would instantly have found its way 

Deep into Selim's burning heart; 
But breathing, as it did, a tone 
To earthly lutes and lips unknown; 
With every chord fresh from the touch 
Of Music's spirit — 'twas too much! 

* The hudhud, or lapwing, is supposed to have the power 
of discovering water under ground. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 28 1 

itarting, he dash'd away the cup, 

Which, all the time of this sweet air, 
lis hand had held, untasted, up, 

As if 'twere fix'd by magic there — 
Ind naming her, so long unnam'd, 
30 long unseen, wildly exclaim'd, 
4 Oh Nourmahal! oh Nourmahal! 

" Hadst thou but sung this witching strain, 

I could forget — forgive thee all, 

" And never leave those eyes again," 

The mask is off — the charm is wrought — 
And Selim to his heart has caught, 
[n blushes, more than ever bright, 
His Nourmahal, his haram's light! 
And well do vanish'd frowns enhance 
The charm of every brighten'd glance; 
And dearer seems each dawning smile 
For having lost its light awhile; 
And, happier now for all her sighs, 

As on his arm her head reposes, 
She whispers him with laughing eyes, 

" Remember, love, the Feast of Roses! ' ? 



A a 2 



282 LALLA ROOKH. 



JF ADLADEEN, at the conclusion of this light rhapso- 
dy, took occasion to sum up his opinion of the young 
Cashmerian's poetry, of which he trusted they had that 
evening- heard the last. Having recapitulated the epi- 
thets, " frivolous," — " inharmonious" — " nonsensical," 
he proceeded to say that, viewing it in the most favourable 
light, it resembled one of those Maldivian boats to which 
the princess had alluded in the relation of her dream, — 
a slight, gilded thing, sent adrift without rudder or bal- 
last, and with nothing but vapid sweets and faded flowers 
on board. The profusion, indeed, of flowers and birds 
which this poet had ready on all occasions, not to men- 
tion dews, gems, &c. — was a most oppressive kind of 
opulence to his hearers; and had the unlucky effect of 
giving to his style all the glitter of the flower-garden 
without its method, and all the flutter of the aviary with- 
out its song. In addition to this he chose his subjects 
badly, and was always most inspired by the worst part of 
them. The charms of paganism, the merits of rebellion: 
These were the themes honoured with his particular en- 
thusiasm; and, in the poem just recited, one of his most 
palatable passages was in praise of that beverage of the 
unfaithful, wine; " being, perhaps," said he, relaxing 
into a smile, as conscious of his own character in the 
haram on this point, "one of those bards whose fancy 
owes all its illumination to the grape, like that painted 
porcelain, so curious and so rare, whose images are only 



LALLA ROOKH. 283 

visible when liquor is poured into it." Upon the whole 
it was his opinion, from the specimens which they had 
heard, and which, he begged to say, were the mort tire- 
some part of the journey, that, whatever other merits 
this well-dressed young gentleman might possess, poetry 
was by no means his proper avocation; " and indeed," 
concluded the critic, " from his fondness for flowers and 
for birds, I would venture to suggest that a florist or a 
bird-catcher is a much more suitable calling for him 
than a poet." 

They had now begun to ascend those barren moun- 
tains, which separate Cashmere from the rest of India; 
and, as the heats were intolerable, and the time of their 
encampments limited to the few hours necessary for re- 
freshment and repose, there was an end to all their de- 
lightful evenings, and Lalla Rookh saw no more of 
Feramorz. She now felt that her short dream of hap- 
piness was over, and that she had nothing but the recol- 
lection of its few blissful hours, like the one draught of 
sweet water that serves the camel across the wilderness, 
to be her heart's refreshment during the dreary waste of 
life that was before her. The blight that had fallen 
upon her spirits soon found its way to her cheek, and 
her Ladies saw with regret — though not without some 
suspicion of the cause — that the beauty of their mistress, 
of which they were almost as proud as of their own, was 
fast vanishing away at the very moment of all when she 
had most need of it. What must the King of Bucharia 
feel, when, instead of the lively and beautiful Lalla 
Rookh, whom the poets of Delhi had described as more 



284 I.ALLA ROOKH. 

perfect than the divinest images in the House of Azor, 
he should receive a pale and inanimate victim, upon 
whose cheek neither health nor pleasure bloomed, and 
from whose eyes Love had $ed, — to hide himself in her 
heart. 

If any thing" could have charmed away the melancholy 
of her spirits, it would have been the fresh airs and en- 
chanting scenery of that Valley, which the Persians so 
justly called the Unequalled.* But neither the cool- 
ness of its atmosphere, so luxurious after toiling up 
those bare and burning mountains, — neither the splen- 
dour of the minarets and pagodas, that shone out from 
the depth of its woods, nor the grottos, hermitages and 
miraculous fountains, which make every spot of that 
region holy ground; — neither the countless water-falls, 
that rush into the Valley from all those high and roman- 
tic mountains that encircle it, nor the fair city on the 
Lake, whose houses, roofed with flowers, appeared at a 
distance like one vast and variegated parterre; — not all 
these wonders and glories of the most lovely country 
under the sun could steal her heart for a minute from 
those sad thoughts, which but darkened and grew bit- 
terer every step she advanced. 

The gay pomp and processions that met her upon her 
entrance into the Valley, and the magnificence with 
which the roads all along were decorated, did honour to 
the taste and gallantry of the young King. It was night 
when they approached the city, and, for the last two 
miles, they had passed under arches, thrown from hedge 

* K&chmire be Nazeer. — Forstev. 



LALLA ROOKH. 285 

to hedge, festooned with only those rarest roses from 
which the Attar Gul, more precious than gold, is dis- 
tilled, and illuminated in rich and fanciful forms with 
lanterns of the triple-coloured tortoise-shell of Pegu. 
Sometimes, from a dark wood by the side of the road, a 
display of fire-works would break out, so sudden and so 
brilliant, that a Bramin might think he saw that grove, 
in whose purple shade the God of Battles was born, burst- 
into a flame at the moment of his birth. — While, at other 
times, a quick and playful irradiation continued to 
brighten all the fields and gardens by which they passed, 
forming a line of dancing lights along the horizon; like 
the meteors of the north as they are seen by those hun- 
ters, who pursue the white and blue foxes on the con- 
fines of the Icy Sea. 

These arches and fire-works delighted the Ladies of 
the Princess exceedingly; and, with their usual good 
logic, they deduced from his taste for illuminations, that 
the King of Bucharia would make the most exemplary 
husband imaginable. Nor, indeed, could Lalla Rookh 
herself help feeling the kindness and splendour with 
which the young bridegroom welcomed her; — but she 
also felt how painful is the gratitude, which kindness 
from those we cannot love excites; and that their best 
blandishments come over the heart with all that chilling 
and deadly sweetness, which we can fancy in the cold, 
odoriferous wind that is to blow over this earth in the 
last days. 



266 LALLA ROOKH. 

The marriage was fixed for the morning" after her ar- 
rival, when she was, for the first time, to be presented to 
the monarch in that Imperial Palace beyond the lake, 
called the Shalimar. Though a night of more wakeful 
and anxious thought had never been passed in the 
Happy Valley, yet, when she rose in the morning and 
her Ladies came round her, to assist in the adjustment 
of Ihe bridal ornaments, they thought they had never 
seen her look half so beautiful. What she had lost of 
the bloom and radiancy of her charms was more than 
made up by that intellectual expression, that soul in the 
eyes which is worth all the rest of loveliness. When 
they had tinged her fingers with the Henna leaf, and 
placed upon her brow a small coronet of jewels, of the 
shape worn by the ancient Queens of Bucharia, they 
flung over her head the rose-coloured bridal veil, and 
she proceeded to the barge that was to convey her across 
the lake; — first kissing, with a mournful look, the little 
amulet of cornelian which her father hung about her 
neck at parting. 

The morning was as fair as the maid upon whose 
nuptials it rose, and the shining Lake, all covered with 
boats, the minstrels playing upon the shores of the 
islands, and the crowded summer-houses on the green 
hills around, with shawls and banners waving from their 
roofs, presented such a picture of animated rejoicing, as 
only she, who was the object of it all, did not feel with 
transport. To Lalla Rookh alone it was a melan- 



LALLA ROOKH. 287 

choly pageant; nor could she have even borne to look 
upon the scene, were it not for a hope that, among 1 the 
crowds around, she might once more perhaps catch a 
glimpse of Feramorz. So much was her imagination 
haunted by this thought, that there was scarcely an islet 
or boat she passed, at which her heart did not flutter 
with a momentary fancy that he was there. Happy, in 
her eyes, the humblest slave upon whom the light of his 
dear looks fell! — In the barge immediately after the 
Princess was Fadladeen, with his silken curtains 
thrown widely apart, that all might have the benefit of 
his august presence, and with his head full of the speech 
he was to deliver to the King, « concerning Feramorz, 
and literature, and the Chabuk, as connected there- 
with. " 

They had now entered the canal which leads from the 
Lake to the splendid domes and saloons of the Shalimar, 
and glided on through gardens ascending from each bank' 
full of flowering shrubs that made the air all perfume; 
while from the middle of the canal rose jets of water^ 
smooth and unbroken, to such a dazzling height, that 
they stood like pillars of diamond in the sunshine. After 
sailing under the arches of various saloons, they at length 
arrived at the last and most magnificent, where the mon- 
arch awaited the coming of his bride; and such was the 
agitation of her heart and frame, that it was with difficul- 
ty she walked up the marble steps, which were covered 
with cloth of gold for her ascent from the barge. At the 
end of the hall stood two thrones, as precious as the Ce- 
rulean Throne of Koolburga, on one of which sat Ali- 
the youthfLi King of Buoharia, and on the other 



RTS 



288 LALLA ROOKII. 

was, in a few minutes, to be placed the most beautiful 
Princess in the world. Immediately upon the entrance 
of Lalla Rookh into the saloon, the monarch descend- 
ed from his throne to meet her; but, scarcely had he time 
to take her hand in his, when she screamed with surprise 
and fainted at his feet. It was Feramorz himself tha 
stood before her! Feramorz was, himself, the Sovereign 
of Bucharia, who in this disg-uise had accompanied hi 
young- bride from Delhi, and having 1 won her love as ai 
humble minstrel, now amply deserved to enjoy it as 
King. 

The consternation of Fadladeen at this discovery! 
was, for the moment, almost pitiable. But change of 
opinion is a resource too convenient in courts for this ex- J 
perienced courtier not to have learned to avail himself 
of it His criticisms were all, of course, recanted in- j 
stantly; he was seized with an admiration of the King's 
verses, as unbounded as, he begged him to believe, it was 
disinterested; and the following week saw him in posses- 
sion of an additional place, swearing by all the Saints of J 
Islam that never had there existed so great a poet as the] 
Monarch, Aliris, and ready to prescribe his favourite j 
regimen of the Chabuk for u every man, woman, andj 
child that dared to think otherwise. 

Of the happiness of the King and Queen of Bucharia, 
after such a beginning, there can be but little doubt; and 
among the lesser symptoms, it is recorded of Lalla I 
Pookh, that, to the day of her death, in memory of their 
deh^htful journey, she never called the King by any 
other name than Feramorz. 






NOTES. 



Eage 5. 
These particulars of the visit of the King of Bucharia 
to Aurungzebe are found in Dow's History of Hindostan, 
vol. Hi. p. 392. 

Page 5. 
Leila, 
The mistress of Mejnoun, upon whose story so many 
Romances, in all the languages of the East, are founded. 

Page 5. 

Shirine. 
For the loves of this celebrated beauty with Khosrou 
and with Ferhad, v. D'Herbelot, Gibbon, Oriental Col- 
lections, &c. 

Page 6. 
Deivilde. 
" The history of the loves of Dewilde and Chizer, the 
son of the Emperor Alia, is written, in an elegant poem, 
by the noble Chusero." — Ferishta. 

Page 7. 
TJiose insignia of the Emperor's favour, &c. 
' * One mark of honour or knighthood bestowed by the 
F.mperor is the permission to wear a small kettledrum at 

tA 



2 LALLA ROOKH. 

the bowS of their saddles, which at first was invented tor 
the training ef hawks, and to call them to the lure, and is 
worn in the field by all sportsmen for that end." Fryer's 
Travels. 

" Those on whom the King has conferred the privilege 
must wear an ornament of jewels on the right side of the 
turban, surmounted by a high plume of the feathers of a 
kind of egret. This bird is found only in Cashmeer, and 
the feathers are carefully collected for the King, who be- 
stows them on his nobles." — Elphinstone' s Account of 
Caubul. 

Page 7. 
Kheder Khan, &c. 
" Kheder Khan, the Khakan, or King of Turquestan be- 
yond the Gihon (at the end of the eleventh century) 
whenever he appeared abroad was preceded by seven 
hundred horsemen with silver battle-axes, and was follow- 
ed by an equal number bearing maces of gold. He was a 
great patron of poetry, and it was he who used to preside 
at public exercises of genius, with four basons of gold and 
silver by him to distribute among the poets who excell- 
ed." — Richardson's Dissertation, prefixed to his Dic- 
tionary. 

Page 7. 
The gilt pine-apples, &c. 
"The kubdeh, a large golden knob, generally in the 
shape of a pine-apple, on the top of the canopy over the 
litter or palanquin." — Scott's notes on the Bahardanush. 

Page 7. 
The rose-coloured veils of the P7wicess's litter. 
In the Poem of Zohair, in the Moallakat, there is the 



notes. ;> 

following lively description of " a company of maidens 
seated on camels." 

" They are mounted in carriages, covered with costly 
awnings, and with rose-coloured veils, the linings of which 
have the hue of crimson Andem-wood. 

" When they ascend from the bosom of the vale, they 
sit forward on the saddle-cloths, with every mark of a 
voluptuous gaiety. 

"'Now, when they have reached the brink of yon blue 
gushing rivulet, they fix the poles of their tents like the 
Arab with a settled mansion." 

Page 7. 
A young female slave sat fanning her, &c. 
See Bemier's description of the attendants on Raucha- 
nara-Begum in her progress to Cashmere. 

Page 8. 
Religion, of -which Aurungzebe -was a munificent protector. 
This hypocritical Emperor would have made a worthy 
associate of certain Holy Leagues. — " He held the cloak 
of religion (says Dow) between his actions and the vulgar; 
and impiously thanked the Divinity for a success which 
he owed to his own wickedness. When he was mur- 
dering and persecuting his brothers and their families, 
he was building a magnificent mosque at Delhi, as an of- 
fering to God for his assistance to him in the civil wars. 
He acted as high-priest at the consecration of this temple; 
and made a practice of attending divine service there, in 
the humble dress of a Fakeer. But when he lifted one hand 
to the Divinity, he, with the other, signed warrants for 
the assassination of his relations." — History of Hindostan, 
vol. hi. p. 335. See also the curious letter of Aurungzebe s 
given in the Oriental Collections, vol. i. p. 320. 



4 LALLA ROOKH. 

Page 8. 

The diamond eyes of the idol, &c* 

Ki The Idol at Jaghernat has two fine diamonds for eyes. 

No goldsmith is suffered to enter the Pagoda, one having 

stole one of these eyes, heing locked up all night with the 

Idol." — Taveimier. 

Page 8. 
Gardens of Shalimar. 
See a description of these royal Gardens in " An Account 
of the present state of Delhi, by Lieut. W. Franklin." — 
JLsiat. Research, vol. iv. p. 417. 

Page 9. 
Lake of Pearl. 

"In the neighbourhood is Notfce Gill, or the Lake of 
Pearl, which receives this name from its pellucid water." — 
Pennant's Hindoostan. 

"Nasir Jung encamped in the vicinity of the Lake of 
Tonoor, amused himself with sailing on that clear and 
beautiful water, and gave it the fanciful name of Motee 
Talab, * the Lake of Pearls/ which it still retains." — 
Wilks's South of India. 

Page 9. 
Described by one from the Isles of the West, &c. 
Sir Thomas Roe, Ambassador from James I. to Jehan- 
guire. 

Page 9. 
Loves of Wamak and Ezra. 
** The romance Wemakweazra, written in Persian verse, 
which contains the loves of Wamak and Ezra, two celebrat- 



NOTES. 5 

ed lovers who lived before the time of Mahomet." — Note 
on the Oriental Tales. 

Page 9. 
Of the fair-haired Zal, and his mistress, Rodahver. 
Their amour is recounted in the Shah-Nameh of Fer- 
dousi; and there is much beauty in the passage which des- 
cribes the slaves of Rodahver, sitting on the bank of the 
river and throwing flowers into the stream, in order to 
draw the attention of the young Hero who is encamped on 
the opposite side. — v. Champion's Translation. 

Page 10. 

The combat of Rust am ivith the terible -white Daemon. 

Rustam is the Hercules of the Persians. For the particu- 
lars of his victory over the Sepeed Deeve, or White Demon, 
v. Oriental Collections, vol. ii. p. 45. — Near the city of 
Shirauz is an immense quadrangular monument, in com- 
memoration of this combat, called The Kelaat-i-Deev 
Sepeed, or Castle of the White Giant, which Father 
Angelo, in his Gazophylacium Persicum, p. 127, declares 
to have been the most memorable monument of antiquity 
which he had seen in Persia. — v. Ouseley*s Persian Mis- 
cellanies. 

Page 10. 
Their golden anklets. 
** The women of the Idol, or dancing girls of the Pagoda, 
have little golden bells fastened to their feet, the soft, 
harmonious tinkling of which vibrates in unison with the 
exquisite melody of their voices." — •Maurice's Indian An- 
tiquities. 

" The Arabian courtesans, like the Indian women, have 
little golden bells fastened round their legs, neck and 
t A2 



6 LALLA ROOKH. 

elbows, to the sound of which they dance before the King. 
The Arabian princesses wear golden rings on their fingers, 
to which little bells are suspended, as well as in the flowing 
tresses of their hair, that their superior rank may be known, 
and they themselves receive in passing the homage due to 
them." — v. Calmet s Dictionary, art. Bells. 

Page 10. 
That delicious opium, &c. 
" Abou-Tige, ville de la Thebaide, ou il croit beaucoup 
de pavot noir, dont se fait le meilleur opium." — D'fferbelot. 



Page 11. 

That idol of women, Crishna. 
"He and the three Ramas are described as youths of 
perfect beauty; and the Princesses of Hindustan were all 
passionately in love with Crishna, who continues to this 
hour the darling God of the Indian women." — Sir W. Jones, 
on the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India. 

Page 11. 

The shawl-goat of Tibet. 

See Turner's Embassy for a description of this animal, 

"the most beautitul among the whole tribe of goats." The 

material for the shawls (which is carried to Cashmere) is 

found next the skin. 

Page 12. 

The veiled Prophet of Khorassan, 

For the real history of this Impostor, whose original 

name was Hakem ben Haschem, and who was called 

Mocanna from the veil of silver gauze (or, as others say, 

golden) which he always wore, v. D'Herbelot. 



VOTES. 7 

Page 13. 

FtowretS and fruits blush over every stream. 

"The fruits of Mem are finer than those of any other 

place; and one cannot see in any other city such palaces, 

with groves, and streams, and gardens." — Ebn HaukaVs 

Geography. 

Page 14. 
For far less luminous, &c. 
" Ses disciples assuroient qu'il se couvroit le visage, pour 
ne pas eblouir ceux qui l'approchoit par I'eclat de son vi- 
sage conirae Moyse." — D* fferbelot. 

Page 14. 

In hatred to the Caliph's hue of night. 
" II faut remarquer ici touchaut les habits blancs des 
disciples de Hakem, que la couleur des habits, des coeffurcs 
et des etendarts des Khalifes Abassides etant la noire, ce 
chef de Rebelles ne pouvoit pas choisir une, qui lui tut plus 
bpposee." — D* Herbelot. 

Page 14. 
Javelins of the light Khathaian reed. 
u Our dark javelins, exquisitely wrought of Khathaiau 
reeds, slender and delicate." — Poem of Amriu 

Page 14. 
Filled with the stems that bloom on Iran's rivers. 
The Persians call this plant Gaz. The celebrated shaft 
of Isfendiar, one of their ancient heroes, was made of it — 
"Nothing can be more beautiful than the appearance of 
this plant in flower during the rains on the banks of rivers, 
where it is usually interwoven with a lovely twining ascle- 



3 LALLA R00RI1. 

pias."— Sir W. Jones, Botanical Observations on Select 
Indian Plants. 

Page 15. 

Like a chenar-tree grove. 

The oriental plane. "The chenar is a delightful tree; its 

bole is of a fine white and smooth bark; and its foilage," 

Avhich grows in a tuft at the summit, is of a bright green." 

— Morier's Travels. 

Page 16. 
With turban 9 d heads of every hue and race, 
Bo-wing before that veiVd and awful face, 

Like tulip-beds 

"The name of tulip is said to be of Turkish extraction, 
and given to the flower on account of its resembling a tur- 
ban." — Beckmanrts History of Inventions. 

Page 16. 

With belt ofbroider'd crape, 
And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape. 
" The inhabitants of Bucharia wear a round cloth bon- 
net, shaped much after the Polish fashion, having a large 
fur border. The}' tie their kaftans about the middle with a 
girdle of a kind of silk crape, several times round the 
body.' 9 — Account of Independent Tartary, in Pinkertons 
Collection. 

Page 18. 
Wav'd, like the wings of the white birds, that fan 
The flying Throne of star-taught Soliman. 
This wonderful Throne was called the Star of the Genii. 
For a full description of it, see the Fragment, translated 
by Captain Franklin, from a Persian MS. entitled " the 
History of Jerusalem:" — Oriental Collections, vol. i. p. 



NOTES. i* 

235. When Solomon travelled, the eastern writers say, 
"he had a carpet of green silk on which his throne was 
placed, being of a prodigious length and breadth, and suffi- 
eient for all his forces to stand upon, the men placing 
themselves on his right hand and the spirits on his left; and 
that when all were in order, the wind, at his command, 
took up the carpet, and transported it, with all that were 
upon it, wherever he pleased: the army of birds at the 
same time flying over their heads, and forming a kind of 
canopy to shade thein from the sun." — Sale's Koran, vol. 
ii. p. 214, note. 

Page 19. 

.... and thence descending fio-u? 'd 

Through many a Prophet's breast. 
This is according to D'Herbelot's account of the doc- 
trines of Mokanna, " Sa doctrine etoit que Dieu avoit pris 
une forme et figure humaine depuis qu'il eut commande 
aux Anges d'adorer Adam, le premier des homines. 
Qu' apres la mort d'Adam, Dieu etoit apparu sous la figure 
de plusieurs Prophetes, et autres grands hommes qu'il 
avoit choisis, jusqu' a ce qu'il prit celle d'Abu Moslem, 
Prince de Khorassan, lequel professoit l'erreur de la Ten- 
assukhiah ou Metempschychose; et qu' apres la mort de 
ce Prince, la Divinite etoit passee, et descendue en sa per- 
sonne." 

Page 33. 
Such Gods as he, 
Whom India serves, the monkey Deity. 
""Apes are in many parts of India highly venerated, 
out of respect to the God Hannamau, a deity partaking of 
the form of that race." — Pennant's Hindoostan. 

See a curious account in Stephen's Persia of a solemn 



10 LALLA ROOKH. 

embassy from some part of the Indies to Goa, when the 
Portuguese were there, offering vast treasures for the re- 
covery of a monkey's tooth, which they held in great ve- 
neration, and which had been taken away upon the con- 
quest of the kingdom of Jafanapatan. 

Page 34. 
Where none but priests are privileged to trade 
In that best marble of which Gods are made. 
The material of which images of Gaudma (the Birman 
Deity) are made, is held sacred. w Birmans may not pur- 
chase the marble in mass, but are suffered, and indeed en- 
couraged, to buy figures of the Deity ready made.*'-— 
Symes's Ava, vol. ii. p. 376. 

Page 33. 
"proud things of clay, 



To -whom if Lucifer, as grandams say, 
Refused, though at the forfeit of heaven 9 s light. 
To bend in -worship, Lucifer -was right. 
This resolution of Eblis not to acknowledge the new 
creature, man, was, according to Mahometan tradition, 
thus adopted: — " The earth (which God had selected for 
the materials of his work), was carried into Arabia, to a 
place between Mecca and Tayef, where, being first knead- 
ed by the angels, it was afterwards fashioned by God him- 
self into a human form, and left to dry for the space of 
forty days, or, as others say, as many years; the angels, in 
the mean time, often visiting it, and Eblis (then one of the 
angels nearest to God's presence, afterwards the devil) 
among the rest; but he, not contented with looking at it, 
kicked it with his foot till it rung, and knowing God de- 
signed that creature to be his superior, took a secret reso- 



NOTES, 11 

lution never to acknowledge him as such." — Sale on the 
oran. 

Page 41. 
The puny bird that dares, -with teazing hum, 
Within the crocodile's stretch 9 d jaws to come. 
The humming-bird is said to run this risk fo* the pur- 
pose of picking the crocodile's teeth. The same circum- 
stance is related of the Lapwing, as a fact to which he was 
witness, by Paid Lucas, Voyage fait en 1714. 

Page 44. 
Some artists of Yamtcheou having been sent on previously. 
" The Feast of Lanterns is celebrated at Yamtcheou 
with more magnificence than any where else: and the re- 
port goes, that the illuminations there are so splendid, that 
an Emperor once, not daring openly to leave his Court to 
go thither, committed himself with the Queen and several 
Princesses of his family into the hands of a magician, who 
promised to transport them thither in a trice. He made 
them in the night to ascend magnificent thrones that 
were borne up by swans, which in a moment arrived 
at Yamtcheou. The Emperor saw at his leisure all the so- 
lemnity, being carried upon a cloud that hovered over the 
city and descended by degrees; and came back again with 
the same speed and equipage, nobody at court perceiving 
his absence." — The present State of China, p. 156, 

Page 44. 
Artificial sceneries of bamboo--work. 
See a description of the nuptials of Vizier Alee in the 
Asiatic Annual Register o/1804. 



12 LALLA ROOKH. 

Page 44. 
The origin of these fantastic Chinese illuminations. 
" The vulgar ascribe it to an accident that happened in 
the family of a famous mandarin, whose daughter walking 
one evenmg upon the shore of a lake, fell in and was 
drowned; this afflicted father, with his family, run thither, 
and, the better to find her, he caused a great company of 
lanterns to be lighted. All the inhabitants of the place 
thronged after him with torches. The year ensuing they 
made fires upon the shore on the same day; they continu- 
ed the ceremony every year, every one lighted his lan- 
tern, and by degrees it commenced into a custom." — 
Present State of China. 

Page 47. 
The Kohol's jetty dye. 
" None of these ladies," says Shaiv, " take themselves 
to be completely dressed, till they have tinged the hair 
and edges of their eyelids with the powder of lead-ore. 
Now as this operation is performed by dipping first into 
the powder a small wooden bodkin of the thickness of a 
quill, and then drawing it afterwards, through the eyelids 
over the ball of the eye, we shall have a lively image of 
what the Prophet (Jer. iv. 30.) may be supposed to mean 
by rending' the eyes -with painting. This practice is no 
doubt of great antiquity; for besides the instance already 
taken notice of, we find that where Jezebel is said (2 
Kings ix. 30) to have painted her face, the original words 
are, she adjusted her eyes with the powder of lead ore" — 
Shaw's Travels- 



NOTES. 13 

Page 50. 

drop 

About the gardens, drunk -with that sweet food. 
Tavemier adds, that while the Birds of Paradise lie 
hn this intoxicated state, the emmets come and eat off their 
legs; and that hence it is they are said to have no feet. 

Page 55. 
As they -were captives to the King of Flowers. 
" They deferred it till the King of Flowers should ascend 
his throne of enamelled foliage." — The Bahardanush. 

Page 56, 
But a light golden chain-work round her hair, &c. 
u One of the head-dresses of the Persian women is com- 
] posed of a light golden chain-work, set with small pearls, 
•with a thin gold plate pendant, about the bigness of a 
• crown-piece, on which is impressed an Arabian prayer, 
and which hangs upon the cheek below the ear." — Han- 
way's Travels. 

Page 56. 
The maids of Yezd. 
n Certainly the women of Yezd are the handsomest wo- 
men in Persia. The proverb is, that to live happy a man 
must have a wife of Yezd, eat the bread of Yezdecas, and 
drink the wine of Shiraz." — Tavemier. 

Page 59. 
And his floating eyes — oh! they resemble 
Blue water lilies ........ 

" Whose wanton eyes resemble blue water-lilies, agitated 
by the breeze." — Jayadeva. 

tB 



14 LALLA ROOKH. 

I perceive there is a false rhyme in this song, which, often 
as I have read it over, never struck me till this moment. 

Page 61. 
To muse upon the pictures that hung round. 
It has been generally supposed that the Mahometans 
prohibit all pictures of animals; but Toderini shews, that 
though the practice is forbidden by the Koran, they are 
not more averse to painted figures and images than other 
people. From Mr. Murphy's work, too, we find that the 
Arabs of Spain had no objection to the introduction of 
figures into painting. 



Page 61. 
With her from Saba's bowers, in whose bright eyes 
He read, that to be bless 9 d, is to be ivise. 
" In the palace which Solomon ordered to be built against 
the arrival of the Queen of Saba, the floor or pavement was 
of transparent glass, laid over running water in which fish 
were swimming." This led ihe Queen into a very natural 
mistake, which the Koran has not thought beneath its dig- 
nity to commemorate. " It was said unto her, Enter the 
palace. And when she saw it she imagined it to be a great 
water; and she discovered her legs, by lifting up her robe 
to pass through it. Whereupon Solomon said to her, Verily, 
this is the place evenly floored with glass." — Chap. 27. 

Page 61. 
Like her own radiant planet of the west, 
Whose orb when half retir* d looks loveliest. 
This is not quite astronomically true. "Dr. Hadley (says 
Keii) has shewn that Venus is brightest, when she is about 
40 degrees removed from the sun; and that then but only a 
fourth part of her lucid disk is to be seen from the earth." 



NOTES. J 5 

Page 61. 

Zuleika. 
*' Such was the name of Potiphar's wife, according to the 
*wm, or chapter of the Alcoran, which contains the history 
of Joseph, and which for elegance of style surpasses every 
other of the Prophet's hooks; some Arabian writers also 
call her Rail. The passion which this frail beauty of anti- 
quity conceived for her young Hebrew slave has given rise 
to & much esteemed poem in the Persian language, entitled 
Yvsef van Zelikha, by Noureddin Jami; the manuscript 
copy of which in the Bodleian Library at Oxford is supposed 
to be the finest in the whole world."— Note upon Notfs 
Translation of Hafez, 

Page 72. 
The apples of Istakhar. 
"In the territory of lstakhar there is a kind of apple, 
half of which is sweet and half sour." — Ebn HauJcal. 

Page 72. 
They js&tty-a young Hindoo girl upon the bank. 
For an account of this ceremony, v. Grandprfs Voyage 
in the Indian Ocean. 

Page 72. 

The Otontala or Sea of Stars. 

" The place where the Whangho, a river of Tibet, rises, 

and where there are more than a hundred springs, which 

sparkle like stars; whence it is called Hotun hor, that is, 

the Sea of Stars."— Description of Tibet in Pinkerton. 



16 LALLA ROOKH. 

Page 74, 
And camels, tufted o'er with Yemen's shells. 
"A superb camel, ornamented with strings and tufts ot 
small shells," — Ali Bey. 

Page 74. 
This City of War, -which in a few short hours 
Has sprung up here 

" The Lescar, ©r Imperial Camp, is divided, like a regular 
town, into squares, alleys, and streets, and from a rising 
ground furnishes one of the most agreeable prospects in the 
world. Starting up in a few hours in an uninhabited plain, it 
raises the idea of a city built by enchantment. Even those 
who leave their houses in cities to follow the prince in his 
progress are frequently so charmed with the Lescar, when 
situated in a beautiful and convenient place, that they 
cannot prevail *ith themselves to remove. To prevent this 
inconvenience to the court, the Emperor, after sufficient 
time is allowed to the tradesmen to follow, orders them to 
be burnt out of their tents." — Dew's Hindostan. 

Colonel Wilks gives a lively picture of an Eastern encamp- 
ment. — " His camp, like that of most Indian armies, ex» 
hibited a motley collection of covers frcm the scorching sun; 
and dews of the night, variegated according to the taste or 
means of each individual by extensive inclosnres of coloured 
calico, surrounding superb suites of tents; by ragged cloths 
or blankets stretched over sticks or branches; palm leaves 
hastily spread over similar supports; handsome tents and 
splendid canopies; horses, oxen, elephants, and camels; all 
intermixed without any exterior mark of order or design, 
except the flags of the chiefs, which usually mark the 
centres of a congeries of these masses; the only regular 
part of the encampment being the streets of shops, each of 



NOTES. 17 

which is constructed nearly in the manner of a booth at an 
English fair." — Historical Sketches of the South of India. 

Page 75, 
The tinkling throngs 
Of laden camels, and their drivers* songs. 
"Some of the camels have bells about their necks, and 
some about their legs, like those which our carriers put 
about their fore-horses' necks, which together with the 
servants (who belong to the camels, and travel on foot), 
singing all night, make a pleasant noise, and the journey 
passes away delightfully.' 5 — Pitt's Account of the Maho- 
metans. 

" The camel-driver follows the camels singing, and some- 
times playing upon his pipe; the louder he sings and pipes, 
the faster the camels go. Kay, they will stand still wheu 
he gives over his music." — Tavernier, 

Page 80. 
Hot as that crimson haze 
By which the prostrate caravan is atv'd. 
Savary says of the south wind, which blows in Egypt 
from February to May, " Sometimes it appears only in the 
shape of an impetuous whirlwind, which passes rapidly, 
and is fatal to the traveller, surprised in the middle of the 
deserts, Torrents of burning sand roll before it, the firma- 
ment is enveloped in a thick veil, and the sun appears of 
the colour of blood. Sometimes whole caravans are buried 
in it." 

Page 87. 
— the pillar' d Throne 
OfParviz. 
There were said to be under this Throne or Palace of 
fB2 



18 LALLAROOKH. 

Khosrou Parviz a hundred vaults filled with " treasures so 
immense, that some Mahometan writers tell us, their Pro- 
phet, to encourage his disciples, carried them to a rock, 
which at his command opened, and gave them a prospect 
through it of the treasures of Khosrou." — Universal His- 
tory. 

Page 88. 
And they beheld an orb, ample and bright, 
Rise from tlie Holy Well. 
We are not told more of this trick of the Imposter, than 
that it was "une machine, qu'il disoit etre la Lune." Ac- 
cording to Richardson, the miracle is perpetuated in 
Nekscheb. — " Nakshab, the name of a city in Transoxi- 
ania, where they say there is a well, in which the appear- 
ance of the moon is to be seen night and day." 

Page 89. 
On for the lamps that light yon lofty screen. 
The tents of Princes were generally illuminated. Nor- 
den tells us that the tent of the Bey of Girge was distin- 
guished from the other tents by fortv lanterns being sus- 
pended before it. — v. Harmer's Observations on Job. 

Page 92. 
Engines of havoc in, unknown before. 
That they knew the secret of the Greek fire among the 
Mussulmans early in the eleventh century appears from 
Dow's \ccount of Mamood I. " When he arriver! at 
tan, finding that the country of the Jits was defend -id by 
great rivers, he ordered fifteen hundred ^oats to be l> 'It, 
each of which he armed with six iron spikes, projecting 
from their prows and sides, to prevent tbeii taing board- 
ed by the enemy, who were very expert in that kind of 



NOTES. 19 

war. When he had launched this fleet, he ordered twenty 
archers into each boat, and five others with fire-balls, to 
burn the craft of the Jits, and naptha to set the whole 
river on fire." 

The agnee aster, too, in Indian poems, the instrument 
of Fire, whose flame cannot be extinguished, is supposed 
to signify the Greek Fire. — v. Wilks's South of India, vol. 
i. p. 471. 

The mention of gunpowder as in use among the Arabi- 
ans, long before its supposed discovery in Europe, is in- 
troduced by Ebn Fadhl, the Egyptian geographer, who 
lived in the thirteenth century. "Bodies," he says, "iu 
the form of scorpions, bound round and filled with nitrous 
powder, glide along, making a gentle noise; then, explod- 
ing they lighten, as it were, and burn. But there are 
others, which cast into the air stretch along like a cloud, 
roaring horribly, as thunder roars; and on all sides vomit- 
ing out flames, burst, burn and reduce to cinders what- 
ever comes in their way." The historian Ben Abdalla, in 
speaking of Abulualid in the year of the Hegira 712, 
says, " A fiery globe, by means of combustible matter, 
with a mighty noise suddenly emitted, strikes with the 
force of lightning, and shakes the citadel." — v. the ex- 
tracts from Casiris Biblioth. Arab. Hispan. in the Ap- 
pendix to JBerington's Literary History of the Middle 
Ages. 

Page 93. 
Discharge, as from a kindled naptha fount. 
See Han-way's Account of the Springs of Naptha at 
Baku (which is called by Lieutenant Pottinger Joaia 
Mookhee, or the Flaming Mouth), taking fire and run- 
ning into the sea. Dr. Cooke in his Journal mentions some 
wells in Circassia, strongly impregnated with this inflam- 



20 LALLA ROOKH. 

mable oil, from which issues boiling water. " Though the 
weather," he adds, " was now very cold, the warmc of 
these wells of hot water produced near them the verdure 
and flowers of spring." 

Major Scott Waring says that naptha is used by the 
Persians, as we are told it was in hell, for lamps. 

many a row 
Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 
With naptha and asphaltus, yielded light 
As from a sky. 

Page 99. 
Thou seest yon cistern in the shade — 'tis filVd 
With burning drugs for this last hour distilVd. 
" II donna du poison dans le vin a tous ses gens, et se 
jetta lui-meme ensuite dans une cuVe pleine d drogues 
brulantes et consum antes, afin qu'il ne restat rein cie tous 
les membres de son corps, et que ceux qui restoit nt de sa 
secte pussent croire qu'il etoit monte au ciel, ce qui ne 
manqua pas d'arriver." — D' Herbelot. 

Page 106. 
To eat any mangoes but those of Mazagong was, of course, 
impossible. 
" The celebrity of Mazagong is owing to its mangoes, 
which are certainly the best fruit I ever tasted. The pa- 
rent tree, from which all those of this species have been 
grafted, is honoured during the fruit season by a guard of 
sepoys; and, in the reign of Shah Jehan, couriers were 
stationed between Delhi and the Mahratta coast, to 
secure an abundant and fresh supply of mangoes for the 
royal table."— Mrs. Grant's Journal of a Residence in 
India. 



NOTES. 



21 



Page 106. 
His fine antique porcelain. 

This old porcelain is found in digging, and " if it is 
esteemed, it is not because it has acquired any new degree 
of beauty in the earth, but because it has retained its an- 
cient beauty; and this alone is of great importance in China, 
where they give large sums for the smallest vessels which 
were used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reign- 
ed many ages before the dynasty of Tang, at which time 
porcelain began to be used by the Emperors," (about the 
year 442.)— Dunn's Collection of curious Observations, 
&c— a bad translation of some parts of the Lettres Edi- 
fiantes et Curieuses of the Missionary Jesuits- 
Page 110. 
That sublime bird that always flies in the air. 

"The Huma, a bird peculiar to the East It is supposed 
to fly constantly in the air, and never touch the ground: 
it is looked upon as a bird of happy omen; and that every 
head it overshades will in time wear a crown." — Richard- 
son. 

In the terms of alliance made by Fuzzul Oola Khan 
with Hyder in 1760, one of the stipulations was, " that he 
should have the distinction of two honorary attendants 
standing behind him, holding fans composed of the feathers 
of the humraa, according to the practice of his family. — 
TVitks's South of India. He adds in a note;—" The humraa 
is a fabulous bird. The head over which its shadow once 
passes will assuredly be circled with a crown. The splen- 
did little bird, suspended over the throne of Tippoo Sul- 
taun, found at Seringapatam in 1799, was iutended to re- 
present this poetical fancy." 



22 LALLA ROOKH. 

Page 111. 
Whose xvords 9 like those on the Written Mountain^ last 
for ever. 
a To the pilgrims to Mount Sinai we must attribute the 
inscriptions, figures, &c. on those rocks, which have from 
thence acquired the name of the Written Mountain."— 
Volney. M. Gebelin and others have been at much pains to 
attach some mysterious and important meaning to these 
inscriptions; but Mebuhr, as well as Volney, thinks that 
they must have been executed at idle hours by the tra- 
vellers to Mount Sinai, " who were satisfied with cutting 
the unpolished rock with any pointed instrument; adding 
to their names and the date of their journeys some rude^ 
figures, which bespeak the hand of a people but little 
skilled in the arts.'* — Niebuhr. 

Page 112. 
From the dark hyacinth to -which Hafez compares his 
mistress's hair. 
Vide JYott's Hafez, Ode v. 

Page 112. 

To the Cdmalatdy by -whose rosy blossoms the heaven oj 

Indra is scented. 

"The Camalata* (called by Linnseus, Ipomsea) is the 
most beautiful of its order, both in the colour and form of 
its leaves and flowers; its elegant blossoms are ' celestial 
rosy red, Love's proper hue,' and have justly procured it 
the name of Camalata or Love's Creeper/' — Sir W. Jones. 

"Camalata may also mean a mythological plant, by 
which all desires are granted to such as inhabit the heaven 
of Indra; and if ever flower was worthy of paradise, it is 
our charming Ipomsea." — lb. 



NOTES. 23 

PageUp. 

That Flower-loving Nymph, whom they worship in the 
temples of Khathay. 
Khathay, I ought to have mentioned before, is a name 
for China. " According; to Father Premare in his tract on 
Chinese Mythology, the mother of Fo-hi was the daughter 
of heaven, surnamed Flower-loving; and as the nymph was 
walking alone on the bank of a river, she found herself 
encircled by a rainbow, after which she became pregnant, 
and, at the end of twelve years, was delivered of a son ra- 
diant as herself." — Asiat. Res. 

Poge 115. 

That blue /lower which, Bramins say, 
Blooms no where but in Paradise. 
" The Brahmins of this province insist that the blue 
Campac flowers only in Paradise." — Sir W. Jones. It ap- 
pears, however, from a curious letter of the Sultan of Me- 
nangcabow, given by Marsden, that one place on earth 
may lay claim to the possession of it. " This is the Sultan, 
who keeps the flower Champaka that is blue, and to be 
found in no other country but his, being yellow else- 
w here ." — JWarsdetfs S u m atr a . 

Page 116. 
i" know where the Isles of Perfume are. 
Diodorus mentions the Isle of Panchaia, to the south of 
Arabia Felix, where there was a temple of Jupiter. This 
island, or rather cluster of isles, has disappeared, " sunk 
(says Grandpre) in the abyss made by the fire beneath 
their foundations." — Voyage to the Indian Ocean. 



24 LALLA ROOKH. 

Page 117. 

Whose air is balm, -whose ocean spreads 
O'er coral rocks and amber beds, &c. 
" It is not like the Sea of India, whose bottom is rich 
with pearls and ambergris, whose mountains of the coast 
are stored with gold and precious stones, whose gulfs 
breed creatures that yield ivory, and among the plants of 
whose shores are ebony, red wood, and the wood of Hair- 
zan, aloes, camphor, cloves, sandal-wood, and all other 
spices and aromatics; where parrots and peacocks are 
birds of the forest, and musk and civet are collected upon 
the lands."— Travels of Two Mohammedans, 

Page 117. 

Thy pillared shades. 
...•<•••• in the ground 
The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow 
About the mother tree, a pillared shade, 
High over-arch'd, and echoing walks between. Milton. 
For a particular description and plate of the Banyan- 
tree, v. Cordineifs Ceylon. 

Page 117. 
Thy monarchs and their thousand thrones. 
"With this immense treasure Mamood returned to 
Ghizni, and in the year 400 prepared a magnificent festi- 
val, where he displayed to the people his wealth in golden 
thrones and in other ornaments, in a great plain without 
the city of Ghizni." — Ferishta. 

Page 119. 
. . . blood like this, 
For Liberty shed, so holy is. 
Objections may be made to my use of the word Liberty, 



NOTES. 25 

in this and more especially in the story that follows it, as 
totally inapplicable to any state of things that has ever ex- 
isted in the East; but though I cannot, of course, mean to 
employ it in that enlarged and noble sense which is so well 
understood at the present day, and, I grieve to say, so little 
acted upon, yet it is no disparagement to the word to ap- 
ply it to that national independence, that freedom from 
the interference and dictation ef foreigners, without which, 
indeed, no liberty of any kind can exist, and for which both 
Hindoos and Persians fought against their Mussulman in- 
vaders with, in many cases, a bravery that deserved much 
better success. 

Page 120. 
Jlfric's Lunar Mountains. 
" Sometimes called," says Jackson, " Jibbel Kumrie, 
or the white or lunar-coloured mountains; so a white horse 
is called by the Arabians a moon -coloured horse." 

Page 122. 
Only the fierce hyana stalks 
Throughout the city*s desolate ivalks. 
" Gondar was full of hysenas from the time it turned 
dark till the dawn of day, seeking the different pieces of 
slaughtered carcases, which this cruel and unclean people 
expose in the streets without burial, and who firmly be- 
lieve that these animals are Falashta from the neighbour- 
ing mountains, transformed by magic, and come down to 
eat human flesh in the dark in safety." Bruce. 

Page 124. 
But see ioho yonder comes. 
This circumstance has been often introduced into poe* 

tc 



26 LALLA ROOKH. 

try; — by Vincentius Fabricius, by Darwin, and lately, 
with very powerful effect, by Mr. Wilson. 

Page 130. 
And, Jordan, those sweet banks of thine, 
And woods, so full of nightingales. 
" The river Jordan is on both sides beset with little, 
thick, and pleasant woods, among which thousands of 
nightingales warble all together.' 5 — Thevenot. 

Page 131. 
On the brink 
Of a small imarefs rustic fount. 
frnaret, "hospice ou on loge et nourrit, gratis, les pe- 
lerins pendant trois jours." — Toderini, translated by the 
Abb4 de Cournand. — v. also Castellan's Moeurs des Otho- 
mans, Tom. 5, p. 145. 

Page 133. 
The boy has started from the bed 
Of flowers, where he had laid his Jiead, 
And down upon the fragrant sod 
Kneels. 
" Such Turks as at the common hours of prayer are on 
the road, or so employed as not to find convenience to at- 
tend the Mosques, are still obliged to execute that duty; 
nor are they ever known to fail, whatever business they 
are then about, but pray immediately when the hour 
alarms them, whatever they are about, in that very place 
they chance to stand on; insomuch that when a janissary, 
whom you have to guard you up and down the city, hears 
the notice which is given him from the steeples, he will 
turn about, stand still, and beckon with his hand, to tell 
his charge he must have patience for a while; when, tak- 



NOTES. 27 

mg out his handkerchief, he spreads it on the ground, sits 
cross-legged thereupon, and says his prayers, though in the 
open market, which having ended, he leaps briskly up, 
salutes the person whom he undertook to convey, and 
renews his journey with the mild expression ofghell gohn- 
nura ghell, or, Come, dear, follow me."— Aaron HiWs 
Travels. 

Page 130. 

The wild bees of Palestine, 

" Wild bees, frequent in Palestine, in hollow trunks or 

branches of trees, and the clefts of rocks. Thus it is said 

(Psalm 81), " honey out of the stony rock." — fiurder's 

Oriental Customs. 

Page 139. 
The Banyan Hospital. 

" This account excited a desire of visiting the Banyan 
Hospital, as I had heard much of their benevolence to all 
kinds of animals that were either sick, lame, or infirm, 
through age or accident. On my arrival there were present- 
ed to my view many horses, cows, and oxen, in one apart- 
ment; in another, dogs, sheep, goats, and monkeys, with 
clean straw for them to repose on. Above stairs were de- 
positories for seeds of many sorts, and flat, broad dishes for 
water, for the use of birds and insects." — Parsons. 

It is said that all animals know the Banyans, that the 
most timid approach them, and that birds will fly nearer 
to them than to other people. — v. Grandpre. 



28 LALLA ROOKH. 

Page 139. 
Whose sweetness was not to be drawn forth, like that of 

the fragrant grass near the Ganges, by crushing and 

trampling upon them. 

"A very fragrant grass from the banks of the Ganges, 
near Heridwar, which in some places covers whole acres, 
and diffuses when crushed a strong odour." — Sir W. Jones 
on the Spikenard of the Ancients. 

Page 142. 

Jlrtisans in chariots. 

Oriental Tales, 

Page 142. 
Waved plates of gold and silver flowers over their heads, 
" Or rather," says Scott, upon the passage of Ferishta, 
from which this is taken, " small coin, stamped with the 
figure of a flower. They are still used in India to distribute 
in charity, and, on occasion, thrown by the purse-bearers 
of the great among the populace." 

Page 142. 
His delectable alley of trees. 
This road is 250 leagues in length. It has "little pyramids 
or turrets," says Bernier, U erected every half league, to 
mark the ways, and frequent wells to afford drink to pas- 
sengers, and to water the voung trees." 

Page 144. 

On the clear, cold waters of which floated multitudes of the 

beautiful red lotus. 

" Here is a large pagoda by a tank, on the water of which 

float multitudes of the beautiful red lotus: the flower is 

larger than that of the white water-lily, and is the most 



NOTES. 29 

lovely of the nymphaeas I have seen."— Mrs. Grant's 
Journal of a Residence in India. 

Page 145. 
Who many hundred years since had fed hither from their 
Arab conquerors. 
" On les voit persecutes par les Khalifes se retirer dans 
les montagnes du Kerman: plusieurs choisirent pour 
retraite la Tartarie et la Chine; d'autres s'arreterent sur 
les bords du Gange, a Test de Delhi." — M. Anquetil, 
Meraoires de I'Academie, torn. xxxi. p. 346. 

Page 146. 
As a native of Cashmere, -which had in the same manner 
become the prey of strangers. 
"Cashmere (say its historians) had its own Princes 4000 
years before its conquest by Akbar in 1585. Akbar would 
have found some difficulty to reduce this Paradise of the 
Indies, situated as it is, within such a fortress of mountains, 
but its monarch, Yusef Khan, was basely betrayed by his 
Omrahs. 5, — Pennant. 

Page 147. 
His story of the Fire-worshippers. 
Voltaire tells us that in his Tragedy " Les Guebres," he 
was generally supposed to have alluded to the Jansenists; 
and I should not be surprised if this story of the Fire-wor- 
shippers were found capable of a similar doubleness of ap- 
plication. 

Page 153. 

Who, lull'd in cool kiosk or bower. 

" In the midst of the garden is the chiosk, that is, a large 

room, commonly beautified with a fine fountain in the midst 

fC2 



30 LALLA ROOKH. 

of it. It is raised nine or ten steps, and inclosed with gilded 
lattices, round which* vines, jessamines, and honeysuckles 
make a sort of green wall: large trees are planted round 
this place, which is the scene of their greatest pleasures." — 
Lady M. W. Montagu. 

Page 153. 
Before their mirrors count the time. 

The women of the East are never without their look- 
ing-glasses. M In Barbary," says Shaw, " they are so fond 
of their looking-glasses, which they hang upon their 
breasts, that they will not lay them aside, even when, 
after the drudgery of the day, they are obliged to go two 
or three miles with a pitcher or a goat's skin to fetch 
water. 3 ' — Travels. 

In other parts of Asia they wear little looking-glasses 
on their thumbs. " Hence (and from the lotus being con- 
sidered the emblem of beauty) is the meaning of the fol- 
lowing mute intercourse of two lovers before their parents. 

" He, with salute of deference due, 

A lotus to his forehead prest; 
She rais'd her mirror to his view, 

Then turn'd it inward to her breast." 

Asiatic Miscellany, vol. ii. 

Page 155. 

Tti untrodden solitude 

Of Ararat's tremendous peak. 
Siruy says, "I can well assure the reader that their 
opinion is not true, who suppose this mount to be inacces- 
sible." He adds that " the lower part of the mountain is 
cloudy, misty, and dark, the middlemost part very cold 
and like clouds of snow, but the upper regions perfectly 
calm."— It was on this mountain that the Ark was sup- 



NOTES. 31 

posed to have rested after the Deluge, and part of it they 
say exists there still, which Struy thus gravely accounts 
for: — " Whereas none can remember that the air on the 
top of the hill did ever change or was subject either to 
wind or rain, which is presumed to be the reason that the 
Ark has endured so long without being rotten." — v. Car- 
vert's Travels, where the Docter laughs at this whole ac- 
count of Mount Ararat. 

Page 162. 
The Gheber belt that round him clung'. 
u Pour se distinguer des Idolatres de I'Inde, les Guebres 
se ceignent tous d s un cordon de laiue, ou de poil de cha- 
meau." — Ency clop ^ die Frangoise. 
D'Herbelot says this belt was generally of leather. 

Page 163, 
Who morn and even 
Hail their Creator's dwelling -place 
Among the living lights of Heaven. 
u As to the fire, the Ghebers place the spring-head of 
it in that globe of fire, the Sun, by them called Mythras, 
or Mihir, to which they pay the highest reverence, in 
gratitude for the manifold benefits flowing from its minis- 
terial omniscience. But they are so far from confounding 
the subordination of the Servant with the majesty of its 
Creator, that they not only attribute no sort of sense or 
reasoning to the sun or fire, in any of its operations, but 
consider it as a purely passive blind instrument, directed 
and governed by the immediate impression on it of the 
will of God; but they do not even give that luminary, all 
glorious as it is, more than the second rank amongst his 
works, reserving the first for that stupendous production 
of divine power, the mind of man." — Grose. — The false 



32 LALLA ROOKH. 

charges brought against the religion of these people by 
their Mussulman tyrants is but one proof among many of 
the truth of this writer's remark, " that calumny is often 
added to oppression, if but for the sake of justifying it." 

Page 167. 
That tree •which groins over the tomb of the musician 
Tan-Sein. 
" Within the enclosure which surrounds this monument 
(at Gualior) is a small tomb to the memory of Tan-Sein, 
a musician of incomparable skill, who flourished at the 
court of AJtbar. The tomb is overshadowed by a tree, con- 
cerning which a superstitious notion prevails, that the 
chewing of its leaves will give an extraordinary melody to 
the voice." — JYarrative of a Journey from Agra to Quze- 
in, by W. Hunter, Esq. 

Page 167. 
The aivful signal of the bamboo-staff. 
"It is usual to place a small white triangular flag, fixed 
to a bamboo staff of ten or twelve feet long, at the place 
where a tiger has destroyed a man. It is common for the 
passengers also to throw each a stone or brick near the 
spot, so that in the course of a little time a pile equal to a 
good waggon-load is collected. The sight ot these flags and 
piles of stones imparts a certain melancholy, not perhaps 
altogether void of apprehension." — Oriental Field Sports, 
vol. ii. 

Page 167. 
Beneath the shade some pious hands had erected, &c. 

"The Ficus fndica, is called the Pagod Tree and Tree 
of Councils; the first from the idols placed under its shade; 
the second, because meetings were held under its cool 



NOTES. 33 

branches. In some places it is believed to be the haunt of 
spectres, as the ancient spreading oaks of Wales have 
been of fairies: in others are erected beneath the shade 
pillars of stone, or posts, elegantly carved and ornamented 
with the most beautiful porcelain to supply the use of mir- 
rors." — Pennant. 

Page 169. 
The nightingale noiv bends her flight. 
" The nightingale sings from the pomegranate-groves in 
the day-time, and from the loftiest trees at night." — Mus- 
sel's Aleppo. 

Page 173. 
Before whose sabre* s dazzling light, &c. 
cc When the bright cimiters make the eyes of our he- 
roes wink." — The Moallakat, Poem ofAmru. 

Page 175. 
As Lebanon's small mountain-flood 
Is rendered holy by the ranks 
Of sainted cedars on its' banks. 
In the L^ttres Edijiantes, there is a different cause as- 
signed for its name of Holy. " In these are deep caverns, 
which formerly served as so many cells for a great number 
of recluses, who had chosen these retreats as the only wit- 
nesses upon earth of the severity of their penance. The 
tears of these pious penitents gave the river of which we 
have just treated the name of the Holy River." — v. Cha- 
teaubriand's Beauties of Christianity. 



34 LALLA ROOKH. 

Page 117. 
A rocky mountain o'er tlie sea 
Of Oman beetling awfully. 
This mountain is my own creation, as the *' stupendous 
chain" of which I suppose it a link does not extend quite 
so far as the shores of the Persian Gulf, u This long and 
lofty range of mountains formerly divided Media from As- 
syria, and now forms the boundary of the Persian and 
Turkish empires. It runs parallel with the river Tigris 
and Persian Gulf, and almost disappearing in the vicinity 
of Gomberoon (Harmozia) seems once more to rise in the 
southern districts of Kerman, anef following an easterly 
course through the centre of Meckraun and Balouchistan, 
is entirely lost in the desarts of Sinde."— ■ Kinneir's Per- 
sian Empire. 

Page 178. 

That bold -were Moslem, and who would dare 

Jit twilight hour to steer his skiff 

Beneath the Gheber 9 s lonely cliff. 
" There is an extraordinary hill in this neighbourhood, 
called Kohe Gubr or the Guebre's mountain. It rises in the 
form of a lofty cupola, and on the summit of it, they say, 
are the remains of an Atush Kudu or Fire Temple. It is 
superstitiously held to be the residence of Deeves or Sprites, 
and many marvellous stories are recounted of the injury 
and witchcraft suffered by those who essayed in former 
days to ascend or explore it" — Pottinger's Beloochistan. 

Page 179. 
Still did the mighty flame burn on. 
" At the city of Yezd in Persia, which is distinguished 
by the appellation of the Darub Abadut, or Seat of Reli- 
gion, the Guebres are permitted to have an Atush Kudu 



NOTES. 35 

or Fire Temple (which, they assert, has had the sacred 
fire in it since the days of Zoroaster) in their own com- 
partment of the city; but for this indulgence they are in- 
debted to the avarice, not the tolerance of the Persian 
government, which taxes them at twenty-five rupees each 
man." — Pottinger's Beloochistan. 

Page 182. 
. . . while on that altar 9 sjires 
They swore. 
u Nul d'entre eux oseroit se perjurer, quand il a pris a 
temoin cet Element terrible et vengeur." — Ency elope die 
Frangoise, 

Page 183. 
The Persian lily shines and towers. 
cc A vivid verdure succeeds the autumnal rains, and the 
ploughed fields are covered with the Persian lily, of a re- 
splendent yellow colour." — RusseVs Aleppo.^ 

Page 189. 
Like Dead Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, 
But turn to ashes on the lips. 
" They say that there are apple-trees upon the sides of 
this sea, which bear very lovely fruit, but within are 
full of ashes." — Thevenot. The same is asserted of the 
oranges there; v. Witman's Travels in Asiatic Turkey. 

" The Asphalt Lake, known by the name of the Dead 
Sea, is very remarkable on account of the considerable pro- 
portion of salt which it contains. In this respect it surpasses 
every other known water on the surface of the earth. This 
great proportion of bitter tasted salts is the reason why nei- 
ther animal nor plant can live in this water." — Klaproth 9 s 
Chemical Analysis of the water of the Dead Sea, Annals of 



36 LALLA ROOKH. 

Philosophy, January 1813. Hasselqidst> however, doubts 
the truth of this last assertion, as there are shell-fish to 
be found in the lake. 

Lord Byron has a similar allusion to the fruits of the 
Dead Sea, in that wonderful display of genius, his Third 
Canto of Childe Harold, — magnificent beyond any thing, 
perhaps, that even he has ever written. 

Page 189. 
While lakes that shone in mockery nigh. 

*' The Suhrab or Water of the Desert is said to be caused 
hy the rarefaction of the atmosphere from extreme heat; 
and, which augments the delusion, it is most frequent in 
hollows, where water might be expected to lodge. I have 
seen bushes and trees reflected in it, with as much accuracy 
as though it had been the face of a clear and still lake." — 
Potting xr. 

** As to the unbelievers, their works are like a vapour in 
a plain, which the thirsty traveller thinketh to be water, 
until when he cometh thereto he findeth it to be nothing.'* 
— Koran, chap. 24. 

Page 190. 

Ji fotver that the Bidmusk has just passed over. 

" A wind which prevails in February, called Bidmusk, 

from a small and odoriferous flower of that name. 9 ' — " The 

wind which blows these flowers commonly lasts till the end 

of the month." — Le Bruyn, 

Page 190. 

Were the sea-gipsies, -who live forever on the water* 

" The Biajus are of two races; the one is settled on 

Borneo, and are a rude but warlike and industrious nation, 

who reckon themselves the original possessors of the island 






NOTES. 27 

©f Borneo. The other is a species of sea-gipsies or itinerant 
fishermen, who live in small covered boats, and enjoy a per- 
petual summer on the eastern ocean, shifting to leeward 
from island to island, with the variations of the monsoon. In. 
some of their customs this singular race resemble the 
natives of the Maldivia islands. The Maldivians annually 
launch a small bark, loaded with perfumes, gums, flow r ers, 
and odoriferous wood, and turn it adrift at the mercy of 
winds and waves, as an offering to the Spirit of the Winds; 
and sometimes similar offerings are made to the spirit 
whom they term the King of the Sea. In like manner the 
Biajus perform their offering to the god of evil, launching 
a small bark, loaded with all the sins and misfortunes of the 
nation, which are imagined to fall on the unhappy crew 
that may be so unlucky as first to meet with it. 9 ' — Dr, 
Leyden on the Languages and Literature of the Indo- 
Chinese Nations. 

Page 190. 
The violet sherbets. 
" The sweet-scented violet is one of the plants most 
esteemed, particularly for its great use in Sorbet, which 
they make of violet sugar." — Hasselquist. 

" The sherbet they most esteem, and which is drank by 
the Grand Signor himself, is made of violets and sugar." — 
Tavernier. 

Page 190. 
The pathetic measure of Nava. 
" Last of all she took a guitar and sung a pathetic air in 
the measure called Nava, which is always used to express 
the lamentations of absent lovers." — Persian Tales. 



38 LALLAROOKH. 

Page 194. 
Her ruby rosary* 
" Le Tespih, qui est un chapelet, compose de 99 petites 
boules d'agathe, de jaspe, d'ambre, de corail, ©u d'autre 
matiere piecieuse. J'en ai vu un superbe au Seigneur 
Jerposj il etoit de belles et grosses pedes partakes et egales, 
estime trente mille piastres." — Toderini. 

Page 209. 
Ji silk dyed with the blossoms of the sorrowful tree Nilica* 
" Blossoms of tbe sorrowful Nyctanthe give a durable 
colour to silk." — Remarks on the Husbandry of Bengal, 
p. 200. — Nilica is one of the Indian names of this flower.— 
Sir W. Jones.— The Persians call it Gul. — Carreri. 

Page 220. 
When pitying heaven to roses turned 
The death fames that beneath him burtfd. 
Of their other Prophet, Zoroaster, there is a story told 
in Dion Prusaeus, Orat. 36, that the love of wisdom and 
virtue leading him to a solitary life upon a mountain, he 
found it one day all in a flame, shining with celestial fire, 
out of which he came without any harm, and instituted 
certain sacrifices to God, who, he declared, then appeared 
to him. — v. Patrick on Exodus, iii. 2. 

Page 245. 

They were now not far from that Forbidden River. 

* ( Akbar on his way ordered a fort to be built upon the 

Nilab, which he called Attock, which means in the Indian 

language Forbidden; for, by the superstition of the Hindoos, 

it was held unlawful to cross that river." — flow's Hindostan > 



notes. oy 

Page 545. 

Resembling, she often thought, that people of Zinge. 

"The inhabitants of this country (Zinge) are never af- 
flicted with sadness or melancholy: on this subject the 
Sheikh Abu-al-Kheir-Azhari has the following distich: 

" Who is the man without care or sorrow (tell) that f 
may rub my hand to him. 

(Behold) the Zingians, without care or sorrow, frolick- 
some with tipsiness and mirth." 

u The philosophers have discovered that the cause of 
this cheerfulness proceeds from the influence of the star 
Soheil or Canopus, which rises over them every night."— 
Extract from a geographical Persian Manuscript called 
Heft Aklim, or the Seven Climates, translated by W. Ouse- 
ky, Esq. 

Page 246. 
About tivo miles from Hussun Jibdaul ivere the Royal 

Gardens. 
I am indebted for these particulars of Hussun Abdaul to 
the very interesting Introduction of Mr. Elphinstone's 
work upon Caubul. 

Page 246. 
Putting ta death some hundreds of those unfortunate 

lizards. 
"The lizard Stellio. The Arabs call it Hardun. The 
Turks kill it, for they imagine that by declining the head 
it mimics them when they say their prayers." — Hassel- 
quist. 

Page 246. 
As the Prophet said of Damascus, "it was too delicious." 
u As you enter at that Bazar without the gate of Da- 



40 LALLA ROOKH. 

mascus, you see the Green Mosque, so called because it 
hath a steeple faced with green glazed bricks, which ren- 
der it very resplendent; it is covered at top with a pavilion 
of the same stuff. The Turks say this mosque was made 
in that place, because Mahomet being come so far, would 
not enter the town, saying it was too delicious.'* — Theve* 
not. — This reminds one of the following pretty passage in 
Isaac Walton: — "When I sat last on this primrose bank and 
looked down these meadows, I thought of them as Charles 
the Emperor did of the City of Florence, £ that they were 
too pleasant to be looked on, but on holidays. 9 " 

Page 247. 
Would remind the Princess of that difference, &c. 
"Haroun Al Raschid, cinquieme Khalife des Abassides, 
s'£tant un jour brouille avec une de ses mattresses nom- 
inee Maridah, qu'il aimoit cepeudant jusqu'a I'exces, et 
cette mesintelligence ay ant deja dure quelque tems com- 
menca k s'ennuyer. Giafar Barmaki, son favori, qui s'en 
appercut, commanda a Abbas ben Ahnaf, excellent Poete 
de ce tems la de composer quelques vers sur le sujet de 
cette brouillerie. Ce Poete executa l'ordre de Giafar, qui 
iit chanter ces vers par Moussali en presence du Khalife, 
et ce Prince fut tellement touche de la tendresse des vers 
du poete et de la douceur de la voix du musicien qu'il alia 
aussi-tot trouver Maridah, et fit sa paix avec elle." — 
jyilerbelot. 

Page 252. 
Where the silken swing, 
" The swing is a favourite pastime in the East, as pro- 
moting a circulation of air, extremely refreshing in those 
sultry climates." — Richardson. 

"The swings are adorned with festoons. This pastime 



XOTES. 41 

is accompanied with music of voices and of instruments, 
hired by the masters of the swings." — Thevenot. 

Page 263. 
The basil tuft that -waves 
Its fragrant blossoms over graves. 
11 The women in Egypt go, at least two days in the 
week, to pray and weep at the sepulchres of the dead; 
and the custom then is to throw upon the tombs a sort of 
herb, which the Arabs call rihan, and which is our sweet 
basil."— Maillet, Lett. 10. 

Page 265. 
The mountain-herb that dyes 
The tooth of the fawn like gold. 
JVtebuhr thinks this may be the herb which the East- 
ern alchyraists look to as a means of making gold. "Most 
of those alchymical enthusiasts think themselves sure of 
success, if they could but find out the herb, which gilds 
the teeth and gives a yellow colour to the flesh of the 
sheep that eat it. Even the oil of this plant must be of a 
golden colour. It is called Haschischat ed dab.' 9 

Father Jerom Dandini, however, asserts that the teeth ct' 
the goats at Mount Libanus are of a silver colour; and 
adds, " this confirms me that which I observed in Candia; 
to wit, that the animals that live on Mount Ida eat a cer- 
tain herb, which renders their teeth of a golden colour; 
which, according to my judgment, cannot otherwise pro- 
ceed than from the mines which are under ground."— 
Dandini, Voyage to Mount Libanus. 
|D2 



42 LALLA ROOKHw 

Page 268. 
9 Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure 
The pasty the present, and future of pleasure. 
u Whenever our pleasure arises from a succession of 
sounds, it is a perception of a complicated nature, made up 
of a sensation of the present sound or note, and an idea 
or remembrance of the foregoing, while their mixture and 
concurrence produce such a mysterious delight, as neither 
could have produced alone. And it is often heightened by 
an anticipation of the succeeding notes. Thus Sense, Me- 
mory, and Imagination, are conjunctively employed." — 
Gerrard on Taste. 

This is exactly the Epicurean theory of Pleasure, as 
explained by Cicero. " Quo circa corpus gaudere tamdiu, 
dum prsesentem sentiret voluptatem; animum et prse- 
sentem percipere pariter cum corpore et prospicere ve- 
nientem, nee prteteritam prceterfluere sinere." 

Madame de Stael accounts upon the same principle for 
the gratification we derive from rhyme: — Elle est l'image 
de I'esperance et du souvenir. Un son nous fait desirer 
celui qui doit lui repondre, et quand le second retentit il 
nous rappelle celui qui vient de nous echapper." 

Page 269. 

3 Tis dawn, at least that earlier dawn, 

Whose glimpses are again -withdrawn. 

"The Persians have two moruings, the Soobhi Kazim 

and the Soobhi Sadig, the false and the real day -break. 

They account for this phenomenon is a most whimsical 

manner They say that as the sun rises from behind the 

Kohi Qcif (Mount Caucasus) it passes a hole perforated 

through that mountain, and that dartiug its rays through 

it, it is the cause of the Soobhi Kazim, or this temporary 

appearance of day -break. As H ascends the earth is again 



NOTES. 43 

veiled in darkness, until the sun rises above the mountain 
and brings with it the Soobhi Sadig, or real morning." — 
Scott Waring. He thinks Milton may allude to this whea 
he says 

Ere the blabbing Eastern seouf, 
The nice morn on the Indian steep 
From her cabin'd loop-hole peep. 

Page 270. 

held a feast 
In his magnificent Shalimar. 
" In the centre of the plain, as it approaches the Lake, 
one of the Delhi Emperors, I believe Shah Jehan, con- 
structed a spacious garden called the Shalimar, which is 
abundantly stored with fruit-trees and flowering shrubs. 
Some of the rivulets which intersect the plain are led into 
a canal at the back of the garden, and, flowing through its 
centre, or occasionally thrown into a variety of water- 
works, compose the chief beauty of the Shalimar. To deco- 
rate this spot the Mogul Princes of India have displayed an 
equal magnificence and taste; especially Jehan Gheer, who, 
with the enchanting Noor Mahl, made Kashmire his usual 
residence during the summer months. On arches thrown 
over the canal are erected, at equal distances, four or five 
suites of apartments, each consisting of a saloon, with four 
rooms at the angles, where the followers of the court at- 
tend, and the servants prepare sherbets, coffee, and the 
hookah. The frame of the doors of the principal saloon is 
composed of pieces of a stone of a black colour, streaked 
with yellow lines, and of a closer grain and higher polish 
than porphyry. They were taken, it is said, from a Hindoo 
temple, by one of the Mogul Priuces, aad are esteemed of 
great value." — Forster. 






44 LALLA ROOKH. 

Page 277. 

And oh, if there be, &c, 

€l Around the exterior of the Dewan Khass (a building 

of Shah Allum's) in the cornice are the following lines in 

letters of gold upon a ground of white marble — t If there 

be a paradise upon earth, it is this, it is this' " — Franklin. 

Page 282. 
Like that painted porcelain, 
" The Chinese had formerly the art of painting on the 
sides of porcelain vessels fish and other animals, which 
were only perceptible when the vessel was full of some 
liquor. They call this species Kia-tsin, that is, azure is put 
in press, on account of the manner in which the azure is 
laid on. 3 ' — " They are every now and then trying to re- 
cover the art of this magical painting, but to no purpose.** 
— Dunn. 

Page 284. 
More perfect than the divinest images in the House of 

JLzor. 
An eminent carver of idols, said in the Koran to be 
father to Abraham. " I have such a lovely idol as is not 
to be met with in the house of Azor." — Hajiz. 

Page 284. 
The grottos, hermitages, and miraculous fountains. 
" The pardonable superstition of the sequestered inha- 
bitants has multiplied the places of worship of Mahadeo, 
of Beschan, and of Brama. All Cashmere is holy land, and 
miraculous fountains abound." — Major Rennet's Memoirs 
of a Map of Hindostan. 
Jehanguire mentions i( a fountain in Cashmire called 



NOTES. 45 

Tirnagh, which signifies a snake; probably because some 
large snake had formerly been seen there." — " During 
the lifetime of my father, I went twice to this fountain, 
which is about twenty coss from the city of Cashmeer. The 
vestiges of places of worship and sanctity are to be traced 
without number amongst the ruins and the caves, which 
are interspersed in its neighbourhood." — Toozek Jehun- 
geery. — v. Asiat. JMisc. vol. 2. 

There is another account of Cashmere by Abul-Fazil, 
the author of the Ayin-Acbaree, " who," says Major 
Heimely "appears to have caught some of the enthusiasm 
of the Valley, by his descriptions of the holy places in it." 

Page 284. 
Whose houses roofd with flower t. 
u On a standing roof of wood is laid a covering of fine 
earth, which shelters the building from the great quantity 
of snow that falls in the winter season. This fence commu- 
nicates an equal warmth in winter, as a refreshing cool- 
ness in the summer season, when the tops of the houses, 
which are planted with a variety of flowers, exhibit at a 
distance the spacious view of a beautifully chequered 
parterre." — Forster, 

Page 285. 

Lanterns of the triple-coloured tortoise-shell of Pegu. 

" Two hundred slaves there are, who have no other 
office than to hunt the woods and marshes for triple - 
coloured tortoises for the King's Vivary. Of the shells of 
these also lanterns are made." — Vincent le Blanc's Travels 



46 LALLA ROOKH. 

Page 285. 
The meteors of the north, as they are seen by those hunters. 
For a description of the Aurora Borealis as it appears to 
these hunters, v. Encyclopedia. 

Page 285. 
The cold, odoriferous -wind. 
This wind, which is to blow from Syria Damascena, is, 
according to the Mahometans, one of the signs of the Last 
Day's approach. 

Another of the signs is, " Great distress in the world, so 
that a man when he passes by another's grave shall say, 
would to God I were in his place! 3 ' — Sale's Preliminary- 
Discourse. 

Page 287. 
The Cerulean Throne of Koolburga. 
fC On Mahommed Shaw's return to Koolburga (the 
capital of Dekkan), he made a great festival, and mounted 
this throne with much pomp and magnificence, calling it 
Firozeh or Cerulean. I have heard some old persons, who 
saw the throne Firozeh in the reign of Sultan Mamood 
Bhamenee, describe it. They say that it was in length 
nine feet, and three in breadth; made of ebony, covered 
with plates of pure gold, and set with precious stones of 
immense value. Every prince of the house of Bhamenee, 
who possessed this Throne, made a point of adding to it 
some rich stones, so that when in the reign of Sultan 
Mamood it was taken to pieces, to remove some of the 
jewels to be set in vases and cups, the jewellers valued it at 
one corore of oons (nearly four millions sterling). I learn- 



NOTES. 47 

ed also that it was called Firozeh from being partly ena- 
melled of a sky-blue colour, which was in time totally con- 
cealed by the number of jewels."— Ferishta. 



THE END. 









1 9 9 -ff 











Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 



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» Treatment Date: April 2009 



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PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 



(724)779-2111 



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